


Creep

by KenyaKetchup (temptedmelibea)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, But seriously please don't kill me because, Don't read this just no, Eventual Dubcon, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Frisk, Frisk keeps dying and coming to life, I AM SO SORRY SANS I KNOW YOU ARE NOT LIKE THIS, I am really, Just UGH read something else, POV Sans, Please just don't read this, Possessive Sans, SOME Pseudo-Fluff, Sans Has Issues, Sans-centric, Self-Hatred, Sexual Tension, The plot bunny that wouldn't die, There is so much self-loathing in here, Unhappy Sans :(, oh god what have I done, really sorry I wrote this, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 17:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 39
Words: 141,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5752618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/temptedmelibea/pseuds/KenyaKetchup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sans was a weak, hateful, pathetic little skeleton, but this kid was proving to be stronger than he could ever believe. When Sans had just about given up, the human was still filled with love and determination."</p><p>In which Sans is sick, and wrong, and messed up, and terrible, and develops a strong infatuation towards Frisk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Oh my God. I started out writing what I thought would be an Angsty Sans/Frisk piece and out came...  _This_   _thing_. I do not condone sex with underage minors. I do not condone what Sans is doing. This Sans is really off-canon, this Sans Has Issues, and it all just kind of spiraled out of control from there and oh God please whomever reads this please keep in mind that this is a FICTIONAL story with FICTIONAL characters and it should not in any way be imitated in real life. I know that the Frisk in my story is in her teens when... when it happens... but I feel like I have just written this fandom's version of Lolita. ;___; I AM SO SORRY Please just don't read, the plot bunny just had to get out. GAH.

So here it is, to be barfed up into the world, here's this horrible piece of filth. (I'm sorry too, Radiohead, your song came on the radio as I was writing I AM SORRY. D:)

* * *

 

_You float like a feather_

_In a beautiful world_

_And I wish I was special_

_You're so fuckin' special_

_But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo_

_What the hell am I doing here?_

_I don't belong here_

_-_

The first time Sans met the human, he had seen nothing remarkable.

 

Sure, having a human finally fall to the Underground was going to be _hilarious_. Just wait until Pap saw her! He was going to have a _heart attack_ and he didn’t even have a heart. The human herself, though, had been nothing to fuss about. She was so quiet and weak, and although she laughed at his jokes she did not seem to display any humor of her own. In fact, she barely spoke. Despite the newness, she was a bit boring.

 

She was completely unremarkable, this child, just like everything else in his life, and he would have forgetten about her soon enough if the world ever RESET again. At least, the kid _had seemed_ unremarkable in the short time that he’d known her. Sans had felt a twinge of sadness—he was heartless, but not _heartless_!—when the human child hadn't known any better than to run from Doggo, the half-blind sentry dog, and died for her mistake. It had been a real bummer, he had felt guilty then. Not able to fulfill his promise to the Lady Behind the Door was clearly going to bug him for a while, but how was he supposed to know that the girl would try to run from a dog who specifically shouted he could _only see moving things_? The fight had been over before he'd even had a chance to react.

Oh well, at least there had been some degree of excitement. It was a real bummer Pap had never gotten to see the kid, but now Sans would get to tell him all about it and at least that was _something_ new.

 

 

 

The second time he met the human, Sans started to pay attention.

 

He remembered this kid, somehow, as if they'd met in a dream within a dream or perhaps in a different lifetime. The kid seemed to share his sentiment; she had looked at him rather strangely after she took his hand and heard the whoopee cushion.

It was… Intriguing, to say the least.

"heh... that one never gets old..." he laughed with her and smiled, but this time the smile was forced. He recognized that scratched record feeling— He had said these words before.

 

This time, before the kid met the dog, he made sure to explain to her what to do if she ever got hit with blue attacks.

 

The girl caught on quickly and proved to be quite smart, honestly, despite that initial hiccup with the monster-dog. Papyrus' puzzles were not too difficult, by any means, but the speed at which the kid solved them—the ones that worked, anyway—was, while not super-impressive, at least not something to scoff at.

 

When she kept laughing at his jokes, he found that he could rather grow to like this kid, if he gave her a chance.

 

Then she died when she refused to fight a monster of no importance, leaving Sans kind of feeling like he’d suffered a bit of a loss.

 

 

 

The third time he met the kid, he was ready.

 

He was no stranger to the feeling of the world being RESET. He had felt this, grown to identify the feeling and expect it, long ago when he worked with the last Royal Scientist. The RESETs had nearly caused him to grow insane before he began disassociating. But for some whatever reason—perhaps because he had grown familiar with it, though he would never be sure—he alone held the vague memories of previous lifetimes firmly on his mind. The entire rest of the world seemed to forget just as soon as the world RESET.

 

Then everyone went about their days like machines, repeating the same actions and the same words over and over again. Sans alone knew what had happened before. Even Papyrus had grown too predictable to Sans' liking, after a while. It had left Sans feeling so alone until finally, in the end, he quit bothering and decided that he couldn’t care any less.

 

Then the RESETS suddenly stopped and Sans thanked the Heavens, not that he had ever seen the Heavens, but then the world suddenly began RESETting again and it left him feeling hopeless and frankly rather angry once more.

 

And then he found the anomaly in this kid that he had never seen before, until the first time, what felt like a few timelines ago. This kid, it seemed, could vaguely remember past timelines. This kid, it seemed, though new to the Underground, could vaguely remember _him_.

 

He brought his lab notebook to their meeting this time, carefully kept in one of the pockets of his oversized hoodie. He never parted with it again.

 

"Human," he said again, his voice purposefully serious to increase the comedic effect of the whoopee cushion. "Don't you know how to greet a new pal? Turn around and shake my hand," he said to the kid, and the kid did shake his hand, this time faster than it seemed natural.

 

The human still looked afraid of him before the whoopee cushion, but the sound and feel of it seemed to set forth a weird look of recognition. She definitely remembered Sans, even if she didn't know she did.

 

And Sans? Sans would always remember the kid now. The kid’s description would remain engraved into Sans' lab notebook, no detail amiss, from her oversized sweater down to the color and style of her slightly worn-out shoes.

 

Sans didn’t often need his lab notebook. He often was able to on his own remember most of the other timelines, he _so_ often remembered most of them, but if there was anything he found caught his interest within this hell-between-RESETs, he made _sure_ that, with his lab notebook, he would _not_ _ever_ forget.

 

 He gave the kid his now-usual dialogue, even though the fact that this kid was human did not seem so hilarious to him anymore. But if repetition was what it took, he would repeat himself a hundred timelines until he was finally wedged into this kid's memory. Sans felt an unwanted twinge of hope as he considered the idea of somebody _new_ truly _remembering_ him.

 

Perhaps he and this kid could become friends.

 

But then the kid was taken from him once again, she died when she faced the married dogs, again and again, until Sans finally figured out that _this kid_ was the reason behind the sudden reappearance of the RESETS and he found that he liked _this kid_ considerably less, was about ready to hate _this kid_ for her role in bringing back those damn RESETs, only that feeling didn't last because suddenly she grabbed his hand before he was even done fully extending it towards her, and he knew she was _so close_ to being aware that she remembered him, and suddenly he felt _weak_.

 

Sans was weak, _so very_ weak, and when he had a moment of weakness, other people usually suffered for it, and he hated to do it, but he was _selfish_.

 

"you know, ah, if you ever meet a couple of dogs..." he said to the kid after she successfully completed one of Pap's puzzles. "if you ever meet a couple of dogs, they're kind of dangerous, but if you _killed the female_ , afterwards, the male won't put up much of a fight."

 

And he felt _guilty, guilty_ even as he said it, and a wave of relief washed over him when the kid didn't fight the dogs, but rather figured out that if she rolled around in the dirt, she could trick them into thinking that she wasn’t human, and then she could Spare them.

 

Sans was a _weak_ , _hateful_ , _pathetic_ little skeleton, but this kid was proving to be stronger than he could ever believe. When Sans had just about given up, the human was still filled with love and determination.

 

 

 

The kid died a couple more times, and each time it felt increasingly hard for Sans to watch.

 

He was not keeping his promise, but how could he? He was morbidly fascinated by the kid's actions. Each time the kid faced a monster, her actions would be different. Each time she tried to make it to Snowdin, she would bring with her something _new_.

 

There were times when the kid never made it out of the Ruins until weeks later, if at all, and those timelines were almost _unbearable_. Sans almost drowned in the monotony.

 

Then came a timeline, though, when the kid did make it out of the Ruins in record time, and she had looked so sure of herself, Sans had almost wept with joy. He was so sure that she remembered everything, finally, and so great was his joy that he failed to see the thick layer of dust on her clothes and on her hair, neglected to notice the sharp knife held firmly in her hand. And by the time Papyrus was dead, no more than dust on the kid’s sneakers, Sans had felt _so betrayed_. And then the murders just kept coming, and they were new but Sans _wanted no part of this_ , and they made it further in time than they ever had but _Sans - wanted - no - part - of - this_.

 

And so he waited for the human at the Judgment Hall, heartless chest full of hate and rage, magic seething, and when she finally came he tortured her and killed her _again and again and again_ , and he found that each kill was miraculously more enjoyable than the last, and he hated her, but he was fascinated—

 

The next time he met her, the next three or four or maybe the next _dozens_ of times, Sans killed the kid on sight.

 

He killed her so often that she grew to instinctively recoil at the sight of him, and when he got tired of killing her, he killed her some more.

 

_Again_.

 

_And  a g a i n_.

 

_A n d **a g a i n**_.

 

Until one time he was about to, and he noticed how relatively tidy she looked, how _clean_ she had always looked, without a speck of dust. And he tried hard, _so hard for her_ , to swallow _so_ much of his hate and anger—he was always _so weak_ to hate, _so weak_ to anger—and extended his hand and the kid recoiled, but she still took it, still meekly laughed at the whoopee cushion and it felt like forgiveness and Sans _hated himself_.

 

Hated himself _so, so much_.

 

And he wondered how many times he had missed out on her laughter because he had clung so firmly onto his hate. This human child was different from the one that had killed Papyrus so many timelines ago, she was always just a little bit different than the last time they met, and he hated himself now for not remembering that.

 

That night, when the kid finally made it to Snowdin, Sans ripped up all the pages in his notebook that reminded him of the many ways he had killed the kid.

 

But he _did not forget_.

 

 

 

"say, kid. don't you have a name?" Sans asked her during a timeline when they met at the Librarby, suddenly realizing that, while he always called her "kid", or "kiddo", or "pal", he had never actually bothered to ask for her name and the kid had never told him. He felt so badly about it now, the kid had grown close enough to him and Papyrus to occasionally crash on their couch instead of at the inn, yet because she was human, and because she was an anomaly, he had been _so distracted_ by her uniqueness he had never bothered to get more information directly out of her.

 

The kid always RESET at Snowdin now. She seemed to have SAVED in his and Papyrus' shed, actually, which Sans personally found very amusing. He would have to ask her how she managed to SAVE, eventually, when they went further into their friendship and gained more trust, but somehow he doubted the kid even knew.

 

The kid had finally warmed up to him, in this timeline, months ago, and she considered him a trusted friend. Sans in turn had warmed up to her many timelines ago, not that she would ever know. Not that she ever remembered.

 

"It's Frisk," she said simply in a quiet voice slightly hoarse from disuse, and Sans was surprised to find that the voice did not quite sound like a child's anymore, although it was not very adult-like either. The kid was an adolescent, then. He shouldn't have been so surprised. Nearly a year had passed since she'd first reached Snowdin and the RESETs had happened less frequently then, each of them forcing him to relive _at most_ a couple of days at a time, which Sans still would have found dreadful had it not been for the break in monotony that the kid—that _Frisk_ —provided.

 

So the kid was an adolescent now, not a child, but still like a child to him who was so much older, not even counting the years of remembered timeliness. She was a child to him, was still a child, but something in her sweet, almost mature voice made him pause slightly as he finally _looked_ at her, made Sans' gaze drop to the plumpness of her mouth, made him notice a certain curvature hiding beneath the kid's oversized sweater and suddenly Sans felt disgusted with himself because he was _sick, sick_ , and he was disgusting, and he was _weak_ ,

 

He was _oh, so weak_ ,

 

_So worthless,_

 

And at the library he invited her to spend the night over at his house again, under the pretense of watching a new anime _up in his room_ , and Frisk innocently took him up on his offer but he could _see_ , _see_ he faint blush on her cheeks, _see_ the signs of the beginning of an _innocent,_ childhood crush…

 

A crush that _he w o u l d  h a v e   t a k e n  a d v a n t a g e  o f_

 

And that night, when the world RESET because Frisk had run into Undyne again,when the timeline went back to the day before their conversation at the Librarby, Sans _thanked the Heavens_ that he had never even _seen_ for saving him from himself.

 

Sans was a _weak_ , _desperate_ , _lonely_ and _despicable_ skeleton.

 

 

 

 

Still, he called Frisk by her name now sometimes, and Frisk could not for the life of her recall when she had ever told him her name.

 

 

 

A few times, when the world RESET, Frisk would suddenly up and leave Snowdin as if driven with a strong purpose that was wedged deep within herself. Sans had learned to hate those times. They were the times Papyrus could no longer avoid fighting the human and they were the times that the human killed Papyrus and won. Sans would always kill her then, sometimes with hate, sometimes with dread, and sometimes he would kill her even before she managed to hurt Papyrus, but he didn't worry too much about it because then, finally, when the world RESET, Frisk would go back to being her usual self. And it was almost as if she had been possessed before in the other timeline, Frisk was _so different_ from the violent human when she was _herself_.

 

And Sans thought it was no big deal if he sometimes killed her, that it would be no big deal if he gave in to his _sick_ , _sadistic_ _pleasure_ as he did so by prolonging the torture and the _taunting_ of this _not-quite-herself_ Frisk, because there was no way she would remember, right? He could kill the Frisk that had once murdered almost all of monsterkind one night, and then that same night, after the world RESET, he would have the real Frisk, _his_ Frisk, cuddling with him on his couch as he held her with his bony arms that still did not feel quite clean of her blood, held her even as his hate and anger still burned hot in his chest, taking a sick, possessive sort of satisfaction in knowing that no matter what she did, no matter what _he_ did, Frisk would be by his side again if he just patiently waited for the world to RESET.

 

He didn't really consider the possibility that the kid might have nightmares, even as his nights were plagued by nightmares of his own. It wasn't until Frisk fell asleep on the couch, cuddling next to him, Papyrus long gone to bed and a bad rerun of Mettatton's cooking channel playing on tv, that Sans finally realized how his actions affected Frisk's subconscious.

 

He had just been laying on the couch, enjoying Frisk's radiant warmth that reached him to the bone even through their various layers of clothing, Frisk's breathing a steady rhythm, Sans' eyes finally about to close and give in to sleep when a small sob came from Frisk's mouth and she began to whimper, eyes fluttering rapidly underneath closed eyelids, and suddenly Sans was entirely too awake, and he was about to wake her up, but then she cried out.

 

She cried out _his name_.

 

" _Sans_..." Her voice, muffled by sleep, sounded almost like a moan, and Sans' breath caught in his throat, and he felt disgustingly weak as she clung to him.

 

Sans was _weak_ and he was disgusted with himself as he lay motionless, paralyzed as Frisk thrashed against him in a way that felt _so wrong_ , but oh so pleasurable because, if he grinded his hips against her so slightly as she writhed against him, blue magic concentrated rather lewdly on his pelvis by his own sinful arousal, he could feel the plump softness of her body grinding against his cock.

 

And the room glowed blue, and he was _weak_ , _so weak_ , _so disgusting_ and _unworthy_ and then another cry of pain escaped Frisk's lips and he forced himself to _stop_.

 

He roused her awake.

 

" _Frisk_!"

 

And when she opened her eyes, the entire room was glowing blue and he was not fully aware of the blue magic glowing in his eye or the tightness that was still in his pants that she thankfully never noticed, because she took only one look at his face and _screamed_.

 

She screamed so loudly that it woke up Papyrus.

 

She screamed so loudly that it drowned him in guilt as Papyrus ran down the stairs, shrieking, a bone in his hand to ward off any potential attacker.

 

She screamed so loudly and she _pushed herself_ away from him and fell off the couch and he _hated_ himself, he absolutely _loathed_ himself because he knew what her nightmare had been about, he could practically see it in her fear.

 

Frisk had remembered his magic, her mind replaying for her in her subconscious the countless ways he had caused her to die.

 

The sudden awareness made him feel _sick_ and _guilty_ and it only helped to escalate his blue magic until he barely felt in control, could barely even repress it for Frisk's sake,

 

And so, like a coward, he _ran_.

 

He disappeared in a flash of bright blue light as Papyrus reached for the human, looking around frantically for the enemy. Sans' magic left the room with him. Frisk ran after him soon after.

 

 

 

He had felt small, so infinitesimally small, when Frisk found him by the waterfall.

 

She was sweaty and red, gasping for air, a huge coat—probably Papyrus' coat—put on rather haphazardly and unbuttoned over the sweats she had borrowed from Sans to use as pajamas,  her short hair a complete mess. She had obviously run after him as soon as he disappeared, had probably searched all through Snowdin before finally reaching the waterfall. There was fear in her eyes and he could tell by his goddamn _uncanny_ ability to tune in with her emotions that some of part of her was still afraid of him, but that overwhelmingly she was afraid _for_ him and that—

 

That would have melted his nonexistant heart, if he wasn’t feeling so much self-loathing.

 

He did not deserve someone like Frisk, would not deserve her in a million lifetimes.

 

And he felt _so ashamed_ , _so hopeless_ , _so filthy_ , for loving her and desiring her like he did.

 

"Sans…," she said hesitantly in her wonderfully quiet voice, the voice she barely had to use because her actions so often spoke _so much louder_ than her words.

 

And she was so wonderful and so full of love and MERCY the likes of which Sans had never seen. She had more caring in her pinky finger than Sans had felt in an entire lifetime and it hurt, it _really hurt_ to feel how she focused that love and caring on him, he who was _so undeserving_ , he who had not only killed her hundreds of times, but also let her sleep through her vivid recollections of his torture as she writhed against him and unknowingly grinded against his cock, a grinding that he had so throroughly enjoyed, despite her whimpers...

 

He had been _so turned on_.

 

It had taken Sans all of the self-control he had not to keep going, to wake her up instead of escalating further. And he sickened himself because he was _really weak_ , he was disgusting, he was a _creep_...

 

And sometimes he felt that he truly loved her but then he really, _really_ wished he had just _kept going_ …

 

"hey, kid." He grinned at her with some effort, that fake grin he used when he would much rather pretend everything was okay, but Frisk had grown to recognize almost all of his expressions, because of course she had, that kid had been crushing on him madly for _months_ now, following him around town like a lost puppy, and she cared about Sans so, _so much_.

 

She ran to him and hugged him and he wished it hadn't caught him as off guard as it had.

 

"I'm sorry, Sans," she cried into his chest, hands desperately tugging at his hoodie as she held on to him, causing Sans to feel like complete and utter shit. "I am _so, so sorry_ , I didn't mean to be scared of you, I am _so sorry_ , Sans. I had a nightmare and..."—she started sobbing even harder—"I am just _SO sorry_ , _sorry for everything_ , I am the _worst_ _friend_..."

 

"hey now, kiddo, no need to be so _ruff_ on yourself, we both know you don't have a mean _bone_ in your body," Sans joked, a skeletal hand patting her head, but the jokes felt hollow.

 

Frisk snorted, halting her sobs, and lightly punched him on the arm as she wiped her tears with her other hand. " _Stop_ ," she smiled up at him, and Sans was absolutely sure his heart would have melted, had he had one.

 

This kid... she was _something_. She was _really_ , _truly something_ , to him.

 

He took her hands in his, and began to gently knead them thoughtfully. She was so warm, and he loved the way his touch made her flush. If only she had been older, he might have been sure it was love.

 

But she was a child, just a teenager, a child to him, and Sans _just_ _knew_ in the back of his mind that even by this gentle touch he was taking advantage of her. Frisk was _so innocent_ , so completely unaware of his malice and sin that he sometimes worried he might tarnish her just by thought. His thoughts towards her could sometimes get so sick, could get _so putrid_ and _sinful_ that he felt like they might really be _bile_ slushing on his head, and yet Frisk would still look on to him with her sweet, adoring smile and rosy cheeks, completely unaware of the things that he sometimes wanted to do to her, the things that he _did_ sometimes _get close_ to doing to her, and he felt sick. He _was_ sick. He did _not_ deserve someone like Frisk.

 

Sans pushed his guilt away and focused instead on the warm softness of her skin. Tried not to focus on the anxious pounding on his chest. Tried hard to think, even as he marveled on the texture of Frisk’s skin. His voice was light and cheerful as he forced himself not to swallow bile.

"so, kiddo, you can tell your buddy sans... you had a nightmare, yeah?"

 

Frisk nodded rather shyly, cheeks adorably scarlet and doe eyes looking wide up at him as if Sans was the moon. Sans couldn't stand to look at her, she was so wonderful, and so instead he focused his gaze on their hands twined together and he kneaded Frisk’s hands and caressed them and his grin never faltered even when his voice grew strained. "you know… you can tell me, frisk, you can be _tendon_ -ly honest, what the nightmare was about, yeah, kid?"

 

Fast as lightning, Frisk withdrew her hands and looked away. Sans tried hard not to think of just how much the rejection hurt.

 

Sans' eye sockets went black. He adjusted his body so he was sitting directly next to her, but he didn't touch her again.

 

"Frisk..." Sans said, voice slightly hoarse and finally serious. "You can really tell me, kid. In your nightmare, you hurt people, yeah? Do I also... Hurt you?"

Frisk took an audibly sharp intake of breath. Sans’ nerves were a wreck—so the answer was _yes_ —and suddenly he felt the very selfish desire for the world to RESET, to go back to watching bad reruns on tv while cuddling on the couch alone with Frisk, to hear her moaning his name again, but this time out of pleasure, because if the world was going to RESET again anyway why bother with things like respect and morality, right?

But he had to be a decent guy, had to at least try, for Frisk.

“i… i have the same nightmares too sometimes, _patella_ the truth,” he half-chuckled, trying so hard to sound like a harmless bag of silly bones instead of the bag of guilty nerves he felt like he was. “ _tibia_ honest, i’m not that surprised you get them too, kid. you remember the first time we met, right?”

Frisk nodded again, and to her surprise Sans actually laughed out loud. “tell me, kid: have ya ever met a human who was so eager to shake a strange skeleton’s hand? we had met before, kiddo, countless times.”

Sans’ laughter increased when he saw Frisk’s disbelieving stare, and he couldn’t contain it, he was so happy, he had waited _so long_ to tell her how they had truly met. They could be equals in knowledge, _finally_ , at least until the world RESET.

Eventually, his laughter died, and Frisk just looked annoyed. Of course she did not believe him, he would have to explain the science behind it first and he had the feeling that Frisk hadn’t even had the chance to learn Newtonian physics yet, much less be able to catch up to him if he attempted to explain the LOADS, SAVES and RESETS with four-dimensional vector calculus. The kid would have to trust him, for now, at least until he got the chance to take her to his lab and properly teach—

His mind became very dirty and he stopped that train of thought. The white of his eye sockets disappeared and he looked on away from Frisk with hollow eye sockets, dead serious for once. “patella the truth, kid… we’ve ‘met’ each other countless times, and some of those times, kid, you weren’t always the friendliest.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Oh my gosh. Thank you SO much, y'all, for liking this horrible story of mine!
> 
> There's a trigger warning on this one for noncon. :(

"I've killed Papyrus?" Frisk said, voice strained. "The nightmares are real? But how..."

 

"everything you dream about has happened in another timeline," Sans said, voice as soothing and as light as he could make it, though he was finally getting excited at the prospect of finally sharing his knowledge with Frisk. "all in other timelines, kid. then the world RESETs and everything's fine."

 

She looked up at him, horrified, and he could tell she was probably recalling the horrible things she had done as the not-Frisk. He let his hands fall on her shoulders. "everyone's fine, kid, and they don't really remember anything that happened—trust me, i’d know—so _tibia_ honest, there's no need to get yourself worked up about it. you are innocent down to the last bone."

 

"But—" Frisk began to argue.

 

Sans shook his head and his grin widened, but his eye sockets went black. "trust me, kid, if you were a murderer in this timeline i would've killed ya before you even had a chance to act."

 

Frisk's eyes widened and she shuddered slightly, but she didn't pull away. Sans could tell she was giving honest consideration to the possibility of the RESETs. By the look on her face, it seemed that a lot of things were finally starting to make sense. And Sans was _happy_ , _so happy_. He had been incredibly anxious before, dreading the moment the kid found out about the RESETS, the timelines, his torture and her deaths, 

 

but now Frisk was finally getting to hear everything and she was receptive and _oh God_ , she was so forgiving and MERCYful and _good_ , _oh so good_ , and now she was looking at him not with fear but with awe and a sort of acceptance and Sans couldn't help but feel over the moon.

 

He was no longer alone, not in this timeline, _finally_ , thanks to Frisk. And the weight of the world and of time and of loneliness that had grown so uncomfortable had begun to peel off of his bony shoulders, and suddenly Sans felt a thousand pounds lighter.

 

She asked to know more, and it was still not entirely comfortable, talking to Frisk about what happened when she was the not-quite-Frisk. He had been afraid that she would start to hate him. But he found that divulging his sins was doable, and _God_ , when he finally told her Frisk was _so good_ , she had been so full of _MERCY_. The kid was indeed too wonderful, too amazing, for words. He could not even begin to deserve her.

 

"every time you die, you RESET," he told her, arms firmly wrapped around her as they watched the water fall in its steady rythm, and she had climbed onto his lap _all on her own_ and had tucked her head underneath his and was clinging onto the front of his hoodie in a way that felt so innocently sweet, but at the same time so deliciously sexual, and Sans tried hard to control his arousal and self-hate.

 

"you RESET somehow and the world goes back to normal, but kid, 

 

Sometimes you come back and it's like the lights are on b u t   _n o b o d y ' s  ho m e_.

 

and i've finally started to be able to tell the difference. your movements become slightly jerky and you walk with such intent and purpose that it just sends chills down my bones. but kid, i myself am not the most forgiving skeleton..."

 

Sans felt her delicate hands tightening their grip on his hoodie and found that he was holding Frisk just a little bit tighter as well.

 

"and kid... i hope you understand... i'm already _so sick_ with rage. you have _no idea_ what it's like to relive the RESETs over and over and being the only one to remember it all. sometimes it feels like the universe is just playing me a sick joke. you and Pap are the only two i care about at this point. and kid, i love ya"—he said the words lightly but he did, he _really, truly did_ to an extent that she _would never know_ —"but when i find out Pap is dead or that we're in a timeline where he's going to be dead and _you_ are the murderer i just... snap...

 

and I'm sorry, kid. I'm really sorry. i know i'm not the nicest monster this side of underground," he was aware he was rambling now, anxieties and fears spewing out of his throat, but he just couldn’t _stop_. "i really didn't think it would affect you, after the world RESET. if i had known you would have nightmares perhaps i would have been able to stop. but i was _so angry_ , kid. and self-control is sometimes _so hard_. i know it's not for _you_ but for _me_ it's just so hard."

 

He was about to keep going, finding a sort of sick satisfaction by spewing this tirade of self-hate when wonderfully soft, warm, delicate fingers reached his face. And he looked up and Frisk was looking at him, _really_ looking at him with such kindness and such concern, and her gaze made him feel _so_ _small_.

 

"Sans... no... Don't worry, it will be alright," Frisk soothed him in her wonderful, beautifully gentle voice. "I don't... fully understand this, but we can get past this, Sans."

 

And he had felt such _relief_ , had felt _so loved_ at that moment, that he suddenly gave in and he kissed her, blue sparks of soft magic caressing her soft lips, shooting waves of pleasure down his spine. And when she shyly kissed back, hope blooming in her chest at the idea of having her crush reciprocated, he told himself that _she wanted this_ and he couldn't help but _give in_.

 

And suddenly he vanished them and transported them to his room—had made them take a "shortcut”—and he was sprawled on top of her on his bed. And he was so frantic, mad with love and with lust, that he prodded her mouth open with a blue tongue that was full of magic without giving it a second thought, and he thrust his pelvis harshly against her as he groaned with pleasure into her mouth, and she grew quiet, _oh so quiet_ , but he knew she'd had a crush on him for _the longest time_ , so he told himself

 

_She must want this._

 

And then he hastily undid the zipper of her jeans and pulled down the hem of his shorts before he couldn't even bother with that and then her pants disappeared along with her underwear. The room was blue with his magic as he finally, _finally_ , was able to explore her body, hands under her shirt, exploring her chest, and she had grown _so still_ at the feel of the blue member he had conjured against her entrance, and something felt wrong, but Sans was so _weak_ and _oh_ _so very tempted_ , that he was willing to ignore it, willing to _just keep going_.

 

He took her small hand in his and guided it to his cock, morbidly turned on by the idea of having her guide him into her. And she didn't fight back, she _didn't even move_ , and so he pressed his cock against her entrance and _pushed_.

 

Frisk gasped. Her hands shot up towards his hoodie and pushed against his ribcage. "Sans— _wait_ —" She sounded so shy and so small.

 

And he pressed his teeth against her neck and bit, _hard_ , even as he regretted it, regretted everything that he had done in this timeline, regretted taking advantage of Frisk—

 

And he just wanted to RESET, _RESET_ , _R E S E T_

 

She screamed.

 

But he was desperate and he was a coward and he was _weak_

 

He pushed _one more time_ and the tip of his cock met a slight resistance.

 

He should stop now, should really **_stop_** , what he was doing was wrong and sick—

 

But it felt _so good_ , _too good to stop_ , she felt so tight and warm and incredibly pleasurable against his magic, if a little bizarre, he had never done this with a human before, but he found that he was already addicted to the feeling of her cunt wrapping his cock and he wanted _more_ , wanted to be completely inside of her _if only just once_ —

 

And he plunged himself inside her rather hard, the barrier inside her broke, he was up to the hilt now and she cried out in pain louder than before and he—

 

Shit!, _Shit!_ , he _instantly_ regretted this, he shouldn't have done anything, he shouldn’t have brought her here, Sans had really messed this up. He had in a single moment destroyed all of Frisk's trust and he was a monster, a freak, and he really wanted to keep going, he really _really wanted to_ but Frisk started crying and he just could not, this timeline just needed to RESET, this shit he had done needed to have _never happened_ —

 

And then in his cowardice he killed her in a wave of blue magic

 

And the timeline RESET

 

And he hated himself more than he ever thought possible.

 

 

 

When Frisk RESET, that same day's morning, she did not remember. And that night, after cuddling again with Frisk on the couch, when Frisk cried out from the same nightmare, Sans did not wake her up.

 

Instead he let her thrash and squirm against him as her soft screams and moans engulfed his senses, and after he was done thrusting against her sleeping body he took pity on her and shook her awake. Then Frisk woke up screaming, unaware that Sans' cum was still wet on her borrowed sweatpants. Sans held her with slightly uneven breathing, still feeling the last waves of pleasure as he came off his orgasm  and feeling _guiltier_ and more worthless than before he came. But _at least_ , he told himself, at least _this_ had not been the worst thing he had ever done to Frisk.

 

 

 

The next day, when for Frisk's sake he suggested that she stay at the Inn for the night instead of at his and Pap's house after she had been sleeping over for weeks, he tried hard to ignore the look of disappointment on her face and felt despicable.

 

She stayed at the Inn for several weeks. Sans avoided her whenever possible. But at night, she still had nightmares, and Sans knew that she had them because it was _he_ whom she texted late into the night.

 

 

 

Then, one day, he ran into her as he was returning from his shift at the hot dog stand. She was so happy to see him, as always, running to him and greeting him with a hug—" _Sans_!" she'd called out happily in that voice that left him weak at the knees—and he would have been so happy to see her too had he not noticed her backpack.

 

"where ya going, kid?" Sans asked Frisk when she finally pulled away, beaming.

 

"Monsterkid and I are going on a hike to Hotland! We're leaving today. I am so stoked!" And her voice was so cheerful but Sans was just _not_.

 

"what are ya, _crazy_ , kid? Undyne would have your _soul_ if you wander out of Snowdin too far," Sans balked, voice rough with rage and concern and fear.

 

Frisk shook her head, still very clearly excited. "MK said he'd protect me if anything were to happen. It’ll be fine! We even packed extra supplies."

 

Sans almost laughed at the idea of Monsterkid, that weak and clumsy _damn chid_ even _attempting_ to protect _his kid_. But he was suddenly feeling so bitter.

 

So possessive.

 

So _jealous_.

 

So afraid.

 

That the words came out before he had even consciously thought of them, and perhaps he had come across in a way that was rougher than he had intended. "no way, kid. you're not going."

 

"Not going? What do you mean, I'm not going," Frisk said, and to Sans' surprise she sounded actually angry, angry for the first time he had seen in his life. He was stunned.

 

"h-hey now, kid," he started, hands moving towards her arms but she pushed him away. He was speechless. He had never before borne the brunt of her teenage rebellion, had never even know she was capable of it.

 

"I'm _not_ a kid! Don't touch me!" she yelled, the sheer anger in her voice making him cringe. "You can't tell me what to do, Sans! _You're not my dad_!"

 

And he was at a loss. 

 

He was not her... _dad_?

 

A quiet sort of outrage boiled inside his bones.

 

He had never been aware of the paternal aspect of their relationship before. But now he thought rather bitterly, for all her pretense of maturity she was acting like such a petulant child. And he wanted nothing more than to growl in her ear that she was _indeed_ not his child, show her _exactly_ what he thought about her when he looked at that body of hers that was definitely _not_ a child's, but he abruptly felt so guilty because, in a way, she _was_ like his child. He had cared after her as he saw her grow up—

 

And he felt disgusted with himself, felt so _guilty,_ and he was so paralyzed by the sudden mix of lust and guilt and conflicted emotions that when she ran away, he didn't run after her.

 

He didn't need to run after her to know where she'd gone anyway.

 

 

 

 

Still, when he let his body be led by its familiar pull towards Frisk, let himself give in to whatever sick connection it was that linked her to him, he thought that he shouldn't have been surprised that he found her hiding in the cave behind the waterfall. 

 

A small laugh came out of him. _Of course_ the kid would be at her favorite hiding spot and expect him not to look for her there. It was almost cute, her naïveté could be adorable..

 

It was actually very cute.

 

"Go away," she groaned when he suddenly made himself appear next to her. She had grown unfazed by his sudden appearances and disappearances, completely unaware of the full amount of magical power they took. That Sans could appear and disappear by sheer force of will was no small feat, he was the only monster that he knew of that could do such a thing in the entire Underground, but it was just a mundane fact of life to her now and the fact that Frisk could so completely disregard his power could sometimes be quite hysterical. Sans couldn't help himself and snorted. The kid was truly just a naive, petulant child.

 

He wished that her childishness would have been enough for him to stop loving her as much and as deeply as he did.

 

He wished that the depth of the love he felt for her would at least give him the strength to resist his own selfishness.

 

He wished and he wished, but Sans didn't often get what he wanted, and he certainly never got the things that he _needed_.

 

"frisk... buddy... kid... i may not be your father, but that doesn't mean i can just let you do whatever tickles your funny bone. undyne would hunt you down if you ever left snowdin. you _know_ what she wants from you, kid. monsterkid or not, you wouldn't stand a chance." And he couldn't help it, his eyes went dark, and when his voice became uncharacteristically cruel and he reached towards her and caressed her arm he could feel the goosepumps rising on her lovely skin.  " _You'd never even make it out of waterfall._ "

 

He heard her sharp intake of breath, and Sans knew that he had successfully scared the kid into not leaving Snowdin, at least for a while. Maybe, when the time came, when she finally decided to meet Asgore again, this time as Frisk instead of the vile and violent not-so-Frisk, she and he might leave together. 

 

There was a pause during which he reveled in their silence and the warm soft feel of her skin. Then Frisk spoke with her wonderfully soft voice, tinged with a layer of embarrassment and a delicious blush on her cheeks that was definitely there due to his touch, and said "I'm sorry for yelling at you."

 

Sans smiled and pulled her close to him. "there's my Frisk," he said warmly, and his voice sounded forgiving and his embrace seemed to mean forgiveness. And only Sans was aware that deep down in his sick mind this embrace was meant for something more than that, and when he looked down and saw Frisk blush, her body trembling slightly with nervousness as she let her head fall against his chest, her innocent feelings for him more visible now and stronger than ever, he knew he had succeeded, that Frisk was now _well aware_ of _what exactly she felt towards him_ , and Sans had to muster all of the self-control it took not to growl at her

 

_Don't ever call me your dad again._

 

 

 

That evening, when she called him on his phone and mumbled something about not wanting to sleep alone at the Inn due to nightmares, Sans hated himself for giving in and offering that she could sleep with him in his room instead.

 

He told himself that it would be no big deal, they already cuddled on the couch when she stayed over more often than not anyway. But then Papyrus had given him a strange look, and he knew that he had crossed a line, but when Pap didn't say anything Sans pretended not to have noticed.

 

They had a bit of a party that night. Pap cooked pasta. And Frisk was so happy, so overjoyed to be with Sans and his brother that her smiles became contagious. Sans told more jokes than he’d had in weeks. He and Frisk started a pretend-fight against Pap with what Sans dubbed to be his Impasta Blaster (in reality a can of Chef Boyardee that Sans kept for the sole purpose of annoying Pap). Frisk laughed with glee when Pap grew so annoyed he responded to the pretend fight and threw a sofa pillow at Sans. And then Frisk switched sides, declared herself to be a spy for Pap, stole the jar of pasta sauce Sans had been keeping hostage, and made Papyrus cackle so loudly with glee thinking that his side had won, but Pap was not victorious for long. For at the last minute Sans bribed Frisk back with the promise of a dessert that did not include Pap’s trademark (and utterly inedible) Macaroni-n-Sprinkes. Then Frisk became a double agent, Pap threw her another sofa pillow for her betrayal, Frisk and Sans recaptured the jar of spaghetti sauce and emerged victorious.

By the end of the night, Frisk and Pap had laughed so much that they were complaining that their sides hurt, Paps claimed that his “Friendship Level” with Frisk had reached the triple digits, Frisk was beaming and declaring them both to be too _humerus_ , and Sans was happy,

Happier than he had ever been.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... like... New chapter this soon. Huh. I was not expecting this sudden burst of determination. THANK YOU TO ALL WHO REVIEWED!
> 
> ALSO YOU GUYS/GALS/PEOPLE LOOKIT THIS AWESOME FANART   
> KAITHLYNFIREBREATHER DID (*spoilers for this chapter so maybe read it after you're done):
> 
> http://kaithlynfirebreather.deviantart.com/art/Sins-crawling-on-your-back-now-in-color-585905371
> 
> Thank you, KaithlynFireBreather!

The next day, he woke up next to Frisk and Sans was so _content_.

 

And sure, he was also aroused. Frisk had positioned herself rather snugly against his body, with one hand over him and her face pressed against his chest, and as he held her close to him he briefly contemplated the idea of waking her up with a flutter of soft kisses against her skin and perhaps telling her how he really felt and—

 

And there was no need, really, for Sans to expand on this. Waking up next to Frisk was just perfect all on its own. He felt he wanted more, but he didn't _need_ more, and for now he was just so content. So at peace.

 

_He loved her._

 

And he hated that the alarm had gone off and he had to leave for work.

 

"frisk..." he murmured softly against her forehead, and he couldn't help it, he was still so groggy with sleep, he planted a soft kiss on top of her head. "kiddo, it's time for me to get up."

 

Frisk made an unintelligible sound and shifted her body even closer to him.

 

Sans chuckled against her forehead. "you're scooting the wrong way, kid. c'mon. i have to go to work."

 

Her voice was still muffled by sleep and she groaned but he was able to make out the words "Noo... stay... be a _lazy bones_."

 

Sans chuckled a bit harder at that. "c'mon, kid, let me go. you know how mad paps gets if i'm running too late to eat his breakfast pasta. you can sleep in"—he gave her another kiss on her forehead—"i'll take you out to brunch during one of my breaks, yeah?"

 

She smiled at him sleepily and pulled away then, letting him go. Sans immediately missed the contact, but his grin widened. "then it's a brunch date."

 

Her eyes snapped up to him at blushed, eyes now wide awake with excitement and hope. And Sans really wanted to hold her and kiss her, tell her that it could be a real date, if she wanted, but instead he winked at Frisk rather mischievously and disappeared.

 

And he could hear her loud groan of exasperation all the way from the kitchen. Frisk hated when he vanished like that.

 

Sans smiled.

 

 

 

That day, while doing patrols near his sentry station, Sans visited the Lady Behind the Door.

 

He had come to learn her name was Toriel, a very friendly-sounding woman who lived inside the Ruins and knew Frisk. Sans was aware that she and Frisk spoke on the phone sometimes, that they had a sort of mother-daughter relationship even if Toriel had never come out into Snowdin to visit Frisk. And sometimes she and he made chit chat, and he told her all about Frisk's day, how the kid was doing, if she had accomplished anything worth noting...

 

And usually the words he and Toriel exchanged were just jokes and then chit chat, but today he had a set topic of conversation in mind and walked purposefully up to the door. He knocked loudly once, knocked loudly twice, then waited.

 

"Who's there?" came the voice from behind the door that he'd grown to recognize as Toriel's.

 

Sans almost snickered. "theodore."

 

"Theodore who?"

 

" _theodore_ wasn't open, so i knocked!" Sans heard loud laughter from behind the door and affection rushed into his chest cavity. Toriel always found his bad jokes hysterical.

 

When the laughter died and Toriel was able to breathe, she greeted him. "Hi, Sans."

 

"hey, toriel," Sans smiled. "having yet another a- _door_ -able day?"

 

A snort from behind the door. "More or less, Sans. How is Frisk?"

 

"you know that kid, growing more determined each day," Sans said with a fond smile. "she has been, ah, getting kind of feisty though. is that normal for a human kid?"

 

There was a pause. "I suppose so, given her age, but Frisk was usually such a sweet child. She's not giving you too much trouble, is she?"

 

"no, ah, not at all..." and there was a silence. When Sans continued, his voice was a little more serious. "it's just that she wanted to leave snowdin yesterday. had planned a hike with this other kid without even telling me."

 

"A child her age?" Toriel's voice sounded intrigued and a little excited. "She has a friend?"

 

Sans felt more than a little offended. "well, i'm pretty sure the kid has at least a couple of friends, _tibia_ honest, if you count me and pap."

 

Toriel laughed. " _No_! I meant—hah—I meant a _special friend_."

 

Sans' throat went dry.

 

"Often, when girls get to Frisk's age, they start noticing boys. That's what I meant." Sans wanted nothing more than to finish this conversation, he was already _done_ , but Toriel couldn't exactly read his face from behind the door and so she just kept talking. "Sometimes I wonder how that poor dear is going to do in life, without a human mother to guide her at such a delicate age... The teenage years are crucial in a young lady's development…

 

"Sans, you will protect her and guide her, will you not?"

 

Sans felt his sins crawling on his back.

 

"i—yeah... yeah, sure, toriel, that's what i've been doing..."

 

" _Thank you_ ," Toriel whispered with so much trust and relief, it made him feel dirty. "I'll make sure to call her tonight and ask about this other child."

 

And he was getting ready to leave when Toriel added to her request. "You should probably have a talk with her about this friend too, Sans. From the way she talks about you, it seems like you're the closest thing she has right now to a father."

 

Sans felt like a rusty dagger had somehow lodged itself into his chest and he couldn't quite pull it out.

 

"Frisk worships you," Toriel said affectionately.

 

And he was _done listening_. He was _so done_. And so he packed up all his self-hate and his pain and he left.

 

 

 

When late morning came and Sans met Frisk at Grillby's, he was not quite himself.

 

"Sans!!" Frisk grinned when she saw him enter the restaurant, waving at him rather excitedly from their usual seats. Sans forced a grin and joined her, but his eyes felt dim.

 

"hey, kiddo," he greeted her. "have you ordered yet?" 

 

Frisk shook her head as he sat. Sans didn't have to ask Frisk what she wanted at this point. Brunch was always the same. He looked over at the flame monster who was watching them rather intently—though that was probably Sans' imagination—and put up two bony fingers. "grillby, two stacks of pancakes please."

 

"Extra syrup on yours?" Frisk asked, smiling wide at him, and her voice was slightly teasing. Sans liked it when she spoke. 

 

The skeleton laughed a little at her dig. She had come to learn that he liked to drown his food in condiments, a fact Frisk found to be rather hilarious. Sans raised a brow bone at the kid and smiled teasingly. "I'll make sure to leave some syrup for you to be able _to draw all over your pancakes_ , kid."

 

Frisk blushed a furious shade of pink. Being a teenager, she probably thought it was immature of her to still draw faces on her pancakes. Sans just thought it was adorable. He was about to say something when their order came.

 

"Double order of pancakes for Sans and for _the child_ ," Grillby said, the flame monster's voice rather rigid and stern with a tinge of disapproval, and it sent chills down Sans' spine.

 

Grillby _knew_. He knew, or at least suspected. Had probably noticed the way Sans had started to look at Frisk.

 

Sans removed the hand that had been positioned a little too close to Frisk's and kept both hands to himself from then on out, eyes firmly on his food. He was starting to feel even _worse_.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Frisk put a decent amount of syrup on her pancakes. She did not draw anything. Sans shouldn't have teased her. He felt bad for having killed yet another part of her innocence.

 

Briefly, he remembered the feel of her body wrapped around his cock during the last timeline. She had felt _so tight_. And it took what felt like all of his effort to control his magic and forget how extremely pleasurable it had felt to be completely inside Frisk.

 

_A virgin_. Frisk had been a virgin when he took her. She still was one, during this timeline, wasn't she?

 

Unless during this timeline that little friends of hers, _Monsterkid_ , had gotten into her pants before Sans did. **No.** Scratch that, _not before he did_ , _no no no_ , he was not to pursue the kid, he had promised Toriel—he was _so much older_ than her and she was _so naïve_ —

 

And it was ridiculous, really, to be feeling jealous and competitive towards _Monsterkid_ , of all monsters in the Underground. _Sweet ASGORE_ , how had he reached such a low point in his life? He should just go back to dating—dating other adults—

 

Did he still have Toriel's number? It might be tough luring her out from behind the door, but maybe if he could, he might date her...

 

Sans shoved another spoonful of syrup-covered pancake into his mouth. Somehow the food still tasted bitter.

 

He started just drinking the syrup straight from the bottle, hating the world and its sick sense of humor, hating… _fucking_ … _goddamn Monsterkid_ , hating _himself_.

 

He felt a sick sort of satisfaction knowing that, RESET or not, her remembering it or not, he had still been Frisk's _first_.

 

Maybe in her dreams she remembered it. The possibility both excited and terrified him.

 

"…Sans?" Frisk's voice snapped him out of his reverie. He hadn't realized she had been talking. Sans hand shot to the back of his neck.

 

"uh... sorry, kid"—he grinned apologetically—"you were saying?"

 

"I said Papyrus and I are going fishing tomorrow after he gets off work. Do you want to come with us?"

 

Sans forced out a chuckle. "kid... you do know that with that loud voice of his pap scares the fish away, right?"

 

Frisk smiled her sweet smile, making him stare. _God, how he loved her smile_. He wondered how that little mouth of hers would feel around his cock.

NO, Sans. **S T O P.**

 

The grin died from his face as he took a strong breath and shifted his gaze to firmly focus on his plate.

 

"Sans?"

 

"i think i have better things to do tomorrow than watch you and pap scaring fish away," Sans said, voice rather harsh, but he could not help himself.

 

Frisk's own voice took a worrying tone. "…Sans? Are you okay?"

 

He was feeling rather nasty and it wasn't Frisk's fault, it really wasn't, but he really didn't want to deal with his own _shit_ right now and—

 

His voice was cold. "look, kid. let's just eat."

 

He could feel Frisk's hurt cling to the air as they finished their meal in silence. Sans was quietly fuming. He just _hated and hated_. Hated the world. Hated himself.

 

He loved Frisk but he also wished that he _hated her, too_.

 

It wasn't until they exited Grillby's that Sans finally noticed how much he had hurt Frisk. Her eyes were slightly wet and puffy as she stared at the ground, mouth curved slightly downward. She was holding back tears, Sans felt stupid for not noticing earlier. _Shit._

 

Sans felt awful. He felt like scum. And he still wasn't feeling like acting like his usually cheerful self, which was an act that got often quite draining, but he couldn't just go and leave Frisk crying alone.

 

He took a deep breath and held her back by her arm when he noticed she was starting to walk away from him, probably to go hide behind the waterfall.

 

"look... frisk," he said, and Frisk stood so still that he could tell she was having a hard time listening. "listen. i'm sorry."

 

Frisk just nodded. 

 

Sans took another deep breath, hating himself. "i'm not mad at you, kid. i'm sorry i got like that with you. i've just had a really rough day, alright? i'll talk to you about it tonight," he promised though he had no idea what he was going to actually talk to her about. How he lusted after her to the point where he was jealous of _fucking Monsterkid_? Not-bloody-likely.

 

"Can I stay over at your place?" Frisk asked, voice small, and he really wondered, nightmares or not, why on Earth she preferred sleeping on his couch or in his cramped bed when at this point the innkeeper was letting her stay at her best rooms for free. Whatever the reason was, he would not complain.

 

"of course, kid," Sans said, voice soothing, and his arms pulled her into a hug as if by their own accord. "of course. you're practically family now, you know how pap loves you."

 

Frisk clung tightly to the front of his coat and he could hear how her breathing began to get uneven. She was about to cry unless he said something, she really was, so Sans opened his mouth—

 

"Sans... You don't really like me much, do you?" Frisk said quietly, her small voice silencing his own.

 

The skeleton froze. _What the fuck…?_ Where had she gotten this idea from?

 

"kid… what are you talking about? i've never been this openly affectionate in my life." His tone was disbelieving and conveyed the implicit question _of What more reassurance do you need?_

 

Frisk's voice got very quiet, _so quiet_ , her words muffled by her pressing her face firmly against the front of his coat, but when he strained his eardrums Sans made out the words "I know you act like you like me but don't. You yell in your sleep. And I... _have nightmares too_..."

 

And it suddenly felt like the world came crashing down on his shoulders as Sans gestured his hand slightly at the world with his magic and… made sure…

 

t h a t

 

t  i  m  e

**_s   t   o   p   p   e   d_ ** **.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're finally getting somewhere (again). Hopefully after this time, Sans won't feel the need to RESET.
> 
> Also, I am not sure how I want monster lifetimes to go in this story but I envision Sans so be either mid-30's or whatever the monster equivalent of that is. Probably the monster equivalent since he's done quite a bit with his life (studying physics, working with and surviving the Royal Scientist, doing all this research on timelines and what not and now he has like 3 more jobs to boot). Frisk is either 13 or 14 right now and I feel awful.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why, yes! New chapter this soon. Thanks to all who reviewed and sent kudos for your support. :)

Sans looked around with mild interest. Everything around Frisk and him had stopped. The trick never got old.

As far as neat little magic tricks went, Sans thought that _this_ was by far one of his best. It wasn’t even really that difficult to pull off. Understand the nature of time as a dimension and alter said dimension through magic. _Easy-peasy_. He did the same on a tridimensional plane on a regular basis. Why would manipulating another dimension be different?

Yet there was something indescribably eerie about sending his magic through a plane that he couldn’t see or feel. He couldn’t quite put the strange feeling into words. It was similar to a wave of cold slime crawling along his back, like he was doing something unnatural by sending his magic to a plane he couldn’t touch or fully understand.

A long time ago, Sans had thought manipulating time would be akin to drawing a tridimensional plane on a two-dimensional sheet of paper. Sure, you could fit the _z_ -plane in there, wedged rather awkwardly between _x_ and _y_ , and his mind had initially had such a hard time wrapping his head around it, but eventually his mind adjusted.

The same thing never happened when it came to altering time.

He had been able to manipulate time with magic for years and he _still_ had a hard time wrapping his head around it. It was not his favorite trick to do, but it was certainly very useful.

They couldn’t be overheard this way.

 “kid,” Sans began, but to his frustration Frisk was having a hard time focusing on him. She was too busy noticing how the world around them had become _uncannily still_.

“What did you _do_ to them?” she asked him, her voice conveying a mixture of fear and awe.

He felt a sudden, sharp burst of pride at that moment. It was a victory, of sorts, to awe Frisk. He had impressed _the anomaly_ —

It had been such a long time since he’d thought of Frisk that way.

“i haven’t done anything to them,” Sans replied with a shit-eating grin. “just manipulated time with my magic. neat trick, huh? _wanna see another one_?”

He hadn’t meant himself to sound as malicious as he had, mind momentarily having snapped back to the timelines where he got to show off _what exactly he could do to not-Frisk_. The kid seemed to have the same recollection. She took a step back and shuddered—

“ _wait_ , hold on—” Sans said quickly, hand moving to grab her but she shifted away. _Shit_. He grabbed her with his magic, enveloping her in blue and causing her to shriek out an ear-piercing scream—“frisk, _calm down_ , i’m not gonna hurt ya, kid—”

“Let go—Sans, please let go, _please_ , _please—please don’t…_ , _SHUT UP!_ —”

Frisk all but _growled_ the last words, closing her eyes shut as she did so, hands desperately covering her ears. Sans just stood there numb with shock. He had _never_ heard Frisk’s voice get so rough.

She whimpered for a while before fully formed _sobs_ left her mouth and the nature of her pleading changed.

“ _Sans!_ _Please kill me,_ _Sans! You need to hurry, make it stop, she won’t stop, she won’t shut up, Sans, please—”_

How could he have forgotten, all those timelines ago, how thoroughly capable the kid was of catching him off guard? Sans was speechless, he was frozen on the spot. He hadn’t expected Frisk to start pleading for death, and now he didn’t know what to do—

“ _Please make it stop, Sans, please, please, just make it end—_ “

And Sans was a sadist, _he knew he was_ , he thoroughly enjoyed inflicting pain, he’d come to find that out while hurting Frisk on _so many timelines_ , and here was the kid completely under his control suddenly begging him, _begging him for death,_ and she was sobbing and the tears looked rather lovely going down her pretty face, and he knew that if he complied _she would_ _not remember_ —

“ _Sans, please—please—_ ”

And his mind suddenly went to a very dark place because she was giving permission,

_So could he get creative?_

He was vaguely aware of his hand moving as of its own accord, drawing Frisk _up, up_ — It was so easy—

She let out a loud sob but at this point Sans was barely listening.

She was giving permission,

_So could he prolong this?_

He was transfixed, only vaguely aware of the hardness that was forming under his shorts at the idea of seeing Frisk once again go _up and down, up and down_ —her innocence this time might make it _so much sweeter_ —

“ _Shut up, shut up—Sans!!”_ Frisk cried out his name more desperately than ever.

_Frisk cried out his name_.

_Frisk._

This was Frisk, Sans told himself. _Frisk_. _Frisk, Frisk, Frisk…_

Something inside of him snapped.

And then Sans let her go before he gave in to her begging, the echo of her crying leaving him rather hollow.

Rather _hollow_ — _hah_ —he’d have to write that pun down somewhere.

As far as humor went, his was getting pretty fucked up.

“who is talking to ya, kid?” Sans said over Frisk’s cries and hiccups. She had not moved an inch from where he had dropped her, sitting there on the ground just a few feet in front of him. It vaguely reminded him of the time she’d gone behind his back to climb a tree and then fell; San’s had been _so mad_ , he’d _told_ her it was dangerous…

Frisk quickly shook her head, it was clear she didn’t want to talk about it. She probably feared Sans would think she was insane. And to tell the truth she was sounding pretty crazy, but Sans had seen the way Frisk acted when she was _not-so-Frisk_.

“hey, c’mon now, you can tell me,” Sans said, voice soothing, and when he went to her and kneeled down to her level he put a hand on her shoulder and she flinched but didn’t run away. Her sobs intensified and she hid her face behind her knees. “frisk… buddy… kid… it’ll be alright, just tell me, something’s talking to ya right? just tell me who.”

“‘ _The demon that comes when people call its name’_ ,” Frisk’s voice was barely above a whisper, she sounded so scared. Sans was starting to feel pretty freaked out himself.

“She tells me things, in my nightmares, tells me to do things,” Frisk’s sobs intensified again before she managed to let out a frantic “ _I’m sorry!_ I’m _really sorry_ , Sans!”

If Sans had a heart, it would have been out of his chest by now. His hands shook. “kid… you remember?”

Frisk’s eyes opened _so wide_. “They’re not… _real_ , though… the nightmares… right? I thought it just meant that I wanted to—”

“no, kid,” Sans reassured her, hands now deep in his coat pockets. “you wouldn’t hurt a _soul_. the nightmares… they happened before, a long time ago, but that wasn’t… _you_.”

Frisk’s gaze shifted sideways and Sans was eerily aware that she was listening to a voice that _he couldn’t hear_.

“h-hey… hey now. listen to me, kid,” Sans urged her, snapping bone fingers in front of her face. “don’t listen to whatever it is you’re hearing. tell me about the nightmares. _and don’t beat yourself up over it._ ”

“I… I kill everyone,” Frisk whispered. She looked completely ashamed of herself. “I can’t help myself from doing it. I try _so hard_ but it’s like my body won’t _listen_ to me. Sometimes I’ll even laugh, I—I think I enjoy it... and… you’re in them, sometimes…”

Sans swallowed, hard, as Frisk covered her face with her hands. She shuddered.

“You’re not… _you_ , though. You’re _really mean_. That’s the part that I hate dreaming the most. That and… killing Pap…”

“kid…”                                                    

“…and I swear I don’t want to! Sans, I beg her to stop each time, I tell her I’d do _anything_. Please, I’m not really a—”

“kid, _that’s enough_ —”

“—a _Brother Killer_ —”

**_“Shut up.”_ **

He hadn’t meant to snarl at her, he really hadn’t, but to hear his own hateful words coming out of her was—

It had been something he hadn’t been prepared for.

Frisk’s face was still hidden behind her hands. She was shuddering, _wasn’t looking at him_ ,

He took a very deep breath.

“listen, kid. i feel like this is going to be a lot to take in. let’s just talk about it at my place tonight, yeah?”

Frisk’s face shot up to him at that and she was looking at him, disbelief clearly visible on her tear-stained face. “You want me to sleep over? But—”

“you’re always welcome, kid.”

“But I thought—”

“no _buts._ you can always not show up if you feel like you’d rather sleep at the inn tonight. now c’mon, give your friend a hug”—he easily picked her up causing a small squeal to reach her lips, and pressed her face against the front of his coat as he whispered—“now let’s get everybody else’s party started again. time-stopping gives me the creeps.”

The Lesser Dog resumed barking.

 

 

“SANS, I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY I CAN’T JUST SLEEP HERE AND GO TO ALPHYS’ TOMORROW.”

It was proving to be incredibly difficult to lure Papyrus out of the house. Sans had tried everything from suggesting he go see Undyne for “official guard business” to trying to piss him off enough to stay at the Inn by insulting his spaghetti. Nothing had worked. Finally, he’d enlisted the help of Alphys via text. Pap was having none of it though.

“pap, poor alphys is _bone tired_ , she needs those bedtime stories right away. you know how you feel when you don’t have a bedtime story, right?”

“YES, BUT A BEDTIME STORY IS EXACTLY THE THING I’LL BE MISSING IF I GO TO ALPHYS’ TONIGHT AND THEN HAVE TO STAY THE NIGHT.”

“have some empathy, bro. i’ll read you _two_ stories tomorrow night, i promise.”

“I STILL DON’T SEE WHY YOU CAN’T JUST GO YOURSELF WITH ONE OF YOUR SHORTCUTS, BROTHER.”

Sans shrugged and winked at him. “i’m a lazy bones, what can i say? if i went to help alphys, i wouldn’t be doing my favorite thing, which is nothing.”

“SANS, YOUR LAZY ATTITUDE IS DESPICABLE. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL SHOW YOU WHAT REAL HARD WORK LOOKS LIKE!”

Sans’ grin widened. “wow, bro. you’re sure gonna show me.”

“JUST SIT HERE AND WATCH! I’LL BE BACK BY TOMORROW MORNING!” Papyrus yelled energetically, grabbed the books and stormed out.

Sans let out a slow chuckle. “alphys… i owe you one.” Then he took out his cellphone and began to text Frisk.

hey, kid. coast is clear. u can come over. – Sans

A few minutes passed and he decided to start dinner while he waited for Frisk to arrive. He wondered what kind of food Frisk might like. With Papyrus gone, he felt like cooking something elaborate. He _never_ got to cook anymore since Pap decided he made fantastic pasta.

Half an hour went by and he’d decided to make his signature cheesy mashed potatoes with water sausage. Did they have enough shredded cheese? He’d have to check…

Come to think of it, the kid was taking awfully long. He sent another text.

kid. c’mon, i’m making us dinner – Sans

He looked in the fridge and found they still had a lot of shredded cheese plus an unopened can of water sausage. The salt container was unopened as well. What on _Earth_ was Pap putting on his spaghetti dishes? Was it _just boiled pasta_?

As he prepped the food, he began to get antsy.

sweet asgore, frisk. just let me know if u decided to stay at the inn – Sans

Fifteen minutes (he checked) and no reply. Now he was starting to worry.

frisk? – Sans

you alright, kiddo? – Sans

Finally, when he was about to turn off the stove and go hunting for Frisk, his phone beeped.

Frisk - I’m scared.

scared of what, bud? – Sans

kid? - Sans

kid, if u don't answer me within the next 5 min i'm coming over - Sans

i'm not mad kid, not going to hurt you but i'll be coming for you frisk – Sans

_Exactly_ five minutes. No reply.

can't say i didn't warn you – Sans

 

He found her hiding once again inside the cave behind the waterfall.

 

"How do you _always know where I am_?" Frisk greeted him rather miserably, phone still in her hand from reading his last text. She was not surprised by his sudden appearance, not even really surprised that he hadn't seemed to look for her at the Inn first.

Sans forced out a laugh. He always knew, didn't he.

"we're connected," he answered simply, honestly.

Even with only the faint light trickling from the outside of the cave he was able to see her blush.

"Sans..."—she sighed—"let's just get straight to the point."

He froze because she was using _his_ words. _His words from before_ , at the Judgment Hall. Did she _remember him saying that_? Or was this—

_Not-Frisk_ —?

"…kid?"

She buried her face behind her knees and curled up in a ball. Frisk looked absolutely miserable. There was no knife in sight.

"I love you," Frisk said. _Her_ words. Perhaps a little strained, but _her words_.

And Sans _knew_ what she meant, had already known for _the longest time_ , the kid had been crushing on him for almost a year by now and _he_ —the _adult_ thing to do—would be to _just play it off_ _as a joke_ so she could _finally_ get over her silly crush on Sans—

He should have felt _overjoyed_ but instead her declaration felt bitter.

"aw, kid, i love ya too," Sans managed to choke out, voice casual and dismissive, and he _hated_ how the words came out sounding _so full_ of that _damn paternal affection_ Tori had been talking about. Sans was… at most a friend to Frisk…

He wasn't _so messed up_ that he would want to fuck _his own damn child_ , _Toriel_.

Frisk sat up, sighing rather loudly as her eyes shifted to the cave’s ceiling. She quickly ran a hand through her hair with frustration before pressing both hands against her face. Sans couldn't help but feel for her, she was trying so hard.

"No, I— You don't understand. I'm... I'm _in love_ with you. I’ve been for some time. And I know that it's stupid and you don't have to say... don't have to say anything, I totally understand that you can't feel that way and am okay being just friends, but I think... I think _she_ knows, the, uh... the soul inside my head."

Sans raised a brow bone at her but Frisk just went on. "I think she's trying to poison me against you. I don't know why she wants you dead _so badly_ but I think—Sans, when I have nightmares about you they get _so bad_ , and I think it's her, because... You've _never_... You _wouldn't_... _right_...?"

Ah, Sans realized bitterly. She really _was_ scared, then. Scared of the truth.

"i wouldn't what, kid?" His voice felt empty.

"Sometimes, in my nightmares… you kill me. And I understand those, because after what I did to everyone, it's what I deserve, right?”—she stifled out a bitter laugh—“But…"

Sans took a deep breath.

"But... Sometimes... When you kill me, you take your time and..."

Sans closed his eye sockets.

"...and then, sometimes, you just... there is one nightmare that is... _different_..., I don't...

I don't... want to talk about it."

"kid... i don't know what exactly your nightmares are but you gotta face the fact that at least some of them happened. it didn't happen in our timeline, kid, obviously everyone is still alive, but it still... happened."

She seemed to have given his words outside of Grillby’s some thought because she didn’t question him.

"Did you remember me? In those other timelines?" Frisk asked. There was a sort of hurt in her small voice that quite stung.

Sans took a deep breath and looked straight ahead. He was still sitting beside Frisk but he began doubting that he was worthy of their proximity.

He let his body lean against the sharp rock of the cave wall.

He was tired. _So tired_.

"yeah,” he admitted bitterly.

And he wanted to just die.

"I don't think I remembered you," Frisk told him. "Sometimes I think I got the feeling that I had known you before, but couldn't quite tell from where."

"it gets easier to remember after you know what to look for," Sans explained. "maybe you don't remember everything, but you remember enough. i can teach you how. then, for everything i can't remember i carry a lab notebook."

Frisk's head shot up to look at him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Sans gave out an honest laugh. "tell you that we exist right now in one of probably infinite timelines? kid. would you have even believed me?"

Frisk looked away. "Well I... guess not..."

And she looked so sad, so tired like he was.

"Frisk," Sans said, and his voice was unusually serious. "I _do_ love you, kid. I mean it. I know you probably doubt that, I have no idea what I say in my sleep but thinking back to other timelines I guess my words must be quite harsh. I don't resent you for any of it, though. You are about as important to me as Papyrus is. _Never doubt that_."

Frisk let out a deep sigh, sinking against the wall next to him and staring at the same piece of rock before him that Sans had been looking at. Their relationship was _so messed up_. They had hurt each other _so many times_ and yet Frisk—

_She was in love with him_. She'd said so herself. And Sans felt dirty for feeling tempted but he really wanted to confess too.

He didn't. Toriel had once mentioned to him how fickle teenagers were. Maybe tonight she thought that she loved him and then the next night she'd decide that she wanted to marry Mettaton, or travel the world—

Or date... _fucking_ … _Monsterkid_...

And then Sans would be left with his feelings shattered out of his chest, with nothing to hold on to but his own bitterness and probably guilt that he had _fucked a kid up_ , because there was _no way_ he would be able to _not sleep with her_ , if she seemed receptive...

 

Fuck, he already _knew_ that there was no way he was be able to not stick his dick into her _as long as she_ _didn't outright refuse_.

And it was so messed up, so goddamn fucked up, that he felt himself so strongly attached to this kid. It was as if an invisible string connected her to him by the chest and he couldn’t quite cut the cord. And it was _sick_ , it was _revolting_ , that when whatever entity lay dormant inside her became psychotic he seemed to be the only one who could kill her off. It was sick that he still felt her blood in her hands.

It was even more fucked up that he'd often enjoyed it.

And he often felt like they were meant to be enemies or they were meant to be lovers. There was no ‘ _friends’_. There was no— _goddamn—‘_ fatherly relationship’— _Toriel!_

A small hand reached for his bony one and he couldn't help but to hold it firmly, thumb grazing the soft skin. He felt defeated. It was like their timelines had been corrupted from the start.

"forgive me?" Sans muttered shyly. It was the closest he could get to admitting everything he’d done to her. He felt afraid and so small.

Frisk's hand squeezed his. She nodded, but didn’t verbally reply.

They sat together in silence for the longest time. Whatever Frisk had on her mind, she never quite shared it. And Sans just felt absolutely miserable.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter is short. I am not happy with this, but oh well. I love writing introspection and painful interactions but transition chapters (which is what I consider this one), not so much. The next chapter might take longer than a day to write because I work 12 hour days and get bone tired. @_@

It was after midnight when Sans finally decided that they had been outside long enough.

Frisk wasn't talking much. That fact... unnerved him. She wasn't looking at him, either. She seemed completely lost in her world. Sans squeezed her hand a little tighter.

"kid... let's just go home"

And he transported them into his living room before Frisk had a chance to refuse.

Sans immediately felt a thousand times better. The couch was much more comfortable than sitting on rock inside that damp cave and the house was so much warmer.

"Thank you," Frisk whispered. It was the first thing she'd said in hours and he... didn't like the sound of it. It sounded so dejected, like even saying the words had hurt.

Sans was going to have none of this.

"so," the skeleton said, voice taking a happy, teasing tone. He made sure that, when Frisk looked up at him, she saw his best shit-eating grin. "you _looove_ me, huh?"

Frisk's eyes went wide and her face went scarlet. All trace of melancholy was gone. "Don't you dare bring that up!"

"why not, kiddo? i mean, _patella_ the truth, i'm flattered. i thought—"

"Sans, _don't_!"

"—beauty was—"

" _Sans!!!_ "

"—only _skin deep_."—Frisk groaned—"you must like me a skele- _ton_."

"No. I take that back. I _hate_ you," Frisk said, hiding her face with her hands. Sans laughed.

"aw, c'mon, kid. no need to get so _frisky_."

"Oh, God. _Die_."

Sans' grin widened. He then poked her ribcage with a single digit.

Frisk gasped before she started laughing. "Sans! No—! _Don't_ —!"

"don't what, kid? what do you want me to not do?" Sans asked, laughing a little himself as he started using both hands to tickle Frisk.

"STOP—haha—S-STOP—hahahahaha—"

"yeah, stop? stop what kiddo?" Sans laughed. The kid was so ticklish, it was through sheer force of will that he didn’t do this every day.

Frisk threw herself off the couch in desperation but Sans followed, pinning her to the ground before she had a chance to escape. Cheeks slightly pink, she looked about to say something before he silenced her by renewing his tickling attack. She was squirming under him, gasping for breath in between laughs—

"SANS—hahahha— _STOP_ —HAHAHAHTICKLING—"

Another fit of laughter and she squirmed. Sans tried hard not to be aware of how good she felt wriggling under him.

"sorry, what did you say? i didn't quite catch that."

" _STOP_!" She managed to shout, and she pushed him off her. "Dork!"

Sans grinned at her. "made you laugh, didn't i?"

" _Jerk_." She smiled. Sans chuckled a bit at her accusation. "So what happens now?"

And Sans knew what she meant, but he was starving. "dinner? i made us a _non-pasta_ dish before i went looking for you. we can just reheat it."

Frisk's eyes widened and he could tell she’d just realized she was hungry too. "You can _cook_?"

Sans got up and gave her a hand. "well sure, kid. i'm offended. who do you think did all the cooking when pap was a baby bones?"

"You never—Have you always—?"

"we were orphaned after papyrus was born, if that's what you're asking," Sans told her, and he couldn't help but show off; he set the table with his magic as he pushed the time buttons of the microwave.

Frisk stared with wonder at the dishes flying towards the table. "I'm sorry to hear that," she told him. Sans smiled. Frisk had always been rather polite for a kid.

"nah, kid, don't worry about it. that was a very long time ago."

The microwave beeped and Sans saw Frisk wordlessly taking out a bottle of ketchup from the fridge. He almost laughed. She knew his food tastes by now almost like the palm of her hand.

"thanks, kid," Sans said, and he registered the surprise on her face when he put the mashed potatoes and water sausage on her plate. Frisk had obviously not expected decent food out of him. Sans winked at her. "now, i know this is no pap's spaghetti, but frankly i prefer it when my food is edible."

"It smells delicious," Frisk said with disbelief. Sans grinned at her.

"it _is_ delicious," he boasted, and then he drowned his water sausage with ketchup. "so now that you know i’m an orphan… how about yourself?"

Frisk looked at him with a mouth full of mashed potatoes. And Sans almost laughed, because normally Frisk was such a well-mannered child, but he had caught her so completely off guard that Frisk just looked at him, her face stuffed with mashed potatoes, and choked out a "Whut?"

His grin reached his eyes. "your parents, kiddo. you got anybody waiting for you at the surface?"

Frisk swallowed. "No, I— I'm alone too."

"geez, kid. you aren't alone. you have me and papyrus."

Frisk smiled and took another bite of mashed potatoes. "You know, this is pretty good."

"secret recipe," Sans winked. "so do you have any plans of ever getting back to the surface or what?"

"None," Frisk said, shaking her head. "I'm happy here. I would like to explore outside of Snowdin though."

A rush of jealousy flowed through him. Sans remembered the time he caught Frisk about to leave for the Hotlands with Monsterkid. He quickly suppressed the angry feeling. "you know, i get out of snowdin pretty regularly. i could just take you with me, if you want."

Frisk's eyes went wide. "R-Really? But what about Undyne?"

Sans let out a genuine laugh. His right eye flashed with a hint if blue. "kid, you've _seen_ what i can do when i fight. do you _really_ think undyne would be much of a problem if you’re with me?"

Frisk froze, her gaze dropped firmly to her plate. "Um—"

"hey, kid. relax. it was a joke. sorry i'm _so bone headed_."

The kid let out a shy laugh. “You’re such a dork.”

“whoa, now, buddy,” Sans winked. “flattery will get you nowhere with _this_ skeleton.”

Frisk rolled her eyes and took a forkful of water sausage. Sans was so glad to see her acting like her normal self.

But then dinner ended and they went back to the couch to watch tv as usual, and he couldn’t help but notice how Frisk sat just a little more distant from him. They watched a full rerun of Mettaton’s cooking show before he noticed Frisk was falling asleep.

“kid, it’s getting pretty late. do you want to just crash on the couch?” And the real question, of course, was _Can we just go back to sleeping in my room?_ But of course he couldn’t ask that.

Frisk hesitated, and maybe Sans took advantage of that. “or if you feel up to sleeping on a bed you can have pap’s since he’s gone. or you can still sleep with me. i don’t mind. that way i can wake you up if you have nightmares.”

When Frisk hesitated again, Sans made the decision _for_ her. He placed a boney arm around her shoulders and winked. “c’mon, kid. you’re sleeping with me. i know a shortcut.”

When they vanished and appeared on his bed she blushed, but didn’t say anything. When she didn’t immediately curl up against him, he didn’t push it. He event tried hard not to take offense.

He was _bone tired_ and she probably was too.

“oh, one more thing,” Sans said, suddenly remembering the conversation he’d had with Toriel that morning. He focused his attention on her and inspected her, and he really hoped she couldn’t sense his jealousy. “your goat-mom seems to think you might be having a bit of a crush on monsterkid…”—he raised an inquisitorial brow bone at her—“is that something you and me will need to talk about?”

“ _What?_ ” Frisk exclaimed, and her disbelief and embarrassment were evident. To his sick satisfaction, she clung to him then and hid her face against his hoodie. “No!! We’re just friends— _jeez!_ That’s so _embarrassing_.”

Sans chuckled before teasing her. “good… wouldn’t want to make me _jealous_ …”

Frisk groaned. “You’re never going to let me live this down, are you.”

Sans winked. “i just don’t think i’d have the _guts_ to fight over you…”

“Maybe you would if your _heart_ was in it,” Frisk snapped back.

An unexpected joke. Sans became awfully quiet.

And then he just— started _laughing_ _so hard_. The comeback had been so perfectly, annoyingly _bad_. She was _perfect_ —

“ah, kid, i love you,” Sans said between fits of laughter and when she gave him a shy smile, he hugged her. “i love you, _i love you...”_ And she looked so radiant, so _pleased_ —

Sans really _did_ love her.

He kept holding her even after his laughter died, and was relieved to find she didn’t mind. And Sans felt  _so happy_ , so unbelievably happy again, thanks to Frisk.

_She loved him._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W00t! New chapter!
> 
> Also, holy moley you guys/gals/peoples! MORE FANART OF THIS FIC HAS BEEN BROUGHT INTO EXISTENCE!
> 
> The awesome BeyondtheKilljoy has made this awesome art: http://beyondthekilljoy.deviantart.com/art/Do-you-sans-586948946
> 
> And, in case you missed it, the also awesome-plus-baker-of-goods KaithlynFireBreather made this delicious art: http://kaithlynfirebreather.deviantart.com/art/Sins-crawling-on-your-back-now-in-color-585905371
> 
> BOTH ARE AWESOME. REVIEWS AND KUDOS ARE ALSO AWESOME. I LOVE YOU ALL. THANK YOU. <3

He had several nightmares in consecutive order.

 

The first one he was aware of, he was on his bed on top of Frisk. And he was not proud of himself, in the dream, but she was naked, and so was he. He was vaguely aware of being inside her and thrusting, but he felt as though he was being manipulated by strings—he couldn’t feel anything. Couldn’t control his movements. He felt trapped.

 

Frisk moaned and urged him on and the sound was so sexual that he was sure _it wasn’t Frisk_.

 

_They were covered in dust._

 

The dream transformed and he was suddenly feeling angry,  _so angry_ , waiting for Frisk at the Judgment Hall. This was a dream he’d had before, had lived before. And he was aware of what might happen next, but Sans still dreaded it.

 

Would he be killing the not-Frisk or the real Frisk this time?

 

The kid approached him with a look of wide-eyed confusion on her face. She seemed scared and lost. So it was the real Frisk, then, this time. But Sans— Sans didn’t care.

 

His brother was still dead. There was a layer of dust still on her hands.

 

“Let’s just get to the point,” Sans heard himself say, ignoring the look of fear on the human’s face as he summoned four Gaster Blasters, and he was grateful that he would not get to see how he’d killed Frisk this time because the nightmare changed.

 

He was alone, completely alone. The experiment had been a failure and the timeline lay broken around him. Where was Gaster? Who  _was_ Gaster?

 

_Who was he?_

He witnessed as the entire world RESET. Had it just been a dream?

 

Then he was suddenly by the door that led into the Ruins. As soon as Frisk came out, she stabbed him with a toy knife—

 

Sans jumped awake to the sound of loud screaming _that was_ _not his own_.

 

“What’s wrong?” Frisk asked, startled, and began to sit up before she was held back into place by a wave of blue magic. _His_ magic. The human’s soul turned blue. “ _Sans!?_ ”

 

“ _don’t you dare move_ ,” Sans told her roughly. He felt an awful sort of dread inside his chest. He  _had_  to check on Papyrus.  Had the kid done something as he slept?  _He would **kill**  her _if she’d—

 

There was another loud scream coming from the living room and it was definitely Papyrus. Frantic, Sans teleported—

 

“pap?? what is going on?” And he was completely expecting to find a toy knife wedged in his brother’s chest, to arrive too late only to see Papyrus turn into dust  _again_ and he would  _kill Frisk_ ,  _would kill her for good this time_ , he couldn’t  _deal_  anymore with the  _fucking timelines_  and—

 

Papyrus screamed at him.

 

“SANS! HOW  _DARE_  YOU COOK DINNER BEHIND MY BACK!? I HAD EXPLICITLY MENTIONED THERE WAS HOMEMADE PASTA IN THE FRIDGE! UGH! THIS MAKES ME SO ANGRY THAT I JUST WANT TO SCREAM!!!”

 

Sans stared blankly at his brother. It looked like he and Frisk had forgotten to clean up after themselves last night. There was still evidence of their non-pasta dinner in the sink.

 

“uh… my bad, bro…” Sans mumbled in disbelief, figurative heart still racing a thousand beats a minute. He thought it would hardly be appropriate to ask his younger brother is he was _kidding me with this shit, papyrus?_ But seriously, what on Earth was wrong with Pap? It was still mostly dark outside. What was his brother even  _doing_  back home this early?

 

“IF YOU DON’T WANT GREAT PASTA, YOU SHOULD JUST EAT AT GRILLBY’S, SANS. BUT I REFUSE TO LET THE HUMAN SETTLE FOR A SUBSTANDARD MEAL WHEN I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, CAN COOK HER THE EXCELLENT PASTA SHE SO LIKES.”

 

The human. Sans felt immediately _guilty_. He had left Frisk bound to his bed by magic.  _Shit_.

 

 _Shit,_   _Frisk_.

 

“sorry, pap. won’t happen again,” he said, and _ran_.

 

“SANS! DON’T YOU DARE WALK AWAY FROM ME, BROTHER! I REQUIRE AN EXPLANATION—”

 

But Sans was already running up the stairs. “uh— sorry, pap— I left my tornado running— ”

 

“AGAIN WITH THE TORNADO? WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT TORNADOES IN OUR HOME, SANS!?”

 

And Sans had stopped listening. Thank  _Asgore_  Pap had decided not to follow him. Shit, he’d acted like Frisk had— She would never forgive him. She was so full of MERCY but she would _never forgive him_ —

 

And then he reached his door and he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a voice that was decidedly  _not Frisk’s_ speaking from inside his room.

 

“—can’t believe you let yourself get caught again by the  _garbage brother_ ,” the voice was saying. It sounded so sickeningly sweet and fake, and it sent chills down San’s spine. “Don’t you remember what I said?  _Smiley trash bag_   _is going to kill you_.  _Don’t_  let him find anything more about you. Unless… heh… you want to have a _bad time_.”

 

Sans felt frozen to his spot. Whatever this voice was, it sounded so strangely familiar, _and knew him_. An unexplained hate ran through him, and Frisk must have whispered something he didn’t quite catch because the voice just started laughing a very cruel laugh.

“You  _trust_  him? Are you  _that_ much of an idiot? You _can’t_ tell me you’ve really forgotten everything he’s  _done_  to you. Or are you really still trying to  _convince_  yourself you don’t know _what an asshole_  he really is?

 

“Word of advice, kid.  _Don’t_ trust the  _garbage brother_. If he finds out what you can do, he’s going to  _kill you over and over_ until you stop coming back. I can’t believe this is a REAL thing I have to remind you. He has already _murdered_ you _so many times_.”

 

Frisk’s voice sounded strained. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Please, Flowey— Just go away—”

 

Then Frisk’s voice broke out into a sob and Sans just about lost it.

 

“ _Frisk_ ,” he half-yelled, slamming the door open—

 

And he found Frisk alone still bound to the bed by his magic.

 

"oh, shit, kiddo, I'm sorry—" he snapped his fingers and his magic released Frisk. "i don't know what came over me. I am _so sorry_ —"

 

"Is Papyrus alright?" Frisk asked pretty much immediately. She wasn’t quite looking at him.

 

"uh... yeah, he— heh, he was just pretty mad when he found out that we didn't eat his pasta last night."

 

Frisk let out a long breath Sans didn't know she had been holding. Then another one. And another one. She was hyperventilating. Shit.

 

He felt incredibly _guilty_. "kid, i—"

 

"I just… need a moment," Frisk said, hiding herself under his bedcovers. He could hear the lie thick in her voice. The covers shook. _Shit_.

 

Sans felt empty and worthless. He shouldn't have suspected her so readily, shouldn't have used his magic on Frisk. And he hated himself because there was a part of him—deep, very _deep_ within himself—that secretly enjoyed the effect his still magic had on her.

 

Sans hadn't lied to Frisk, all those timelines ago. He was not the most forgiving skeleton, and the impact of Papyrus’ death was still feeling so fresh in his mind due to the nightmares.

 

Sans was a revolting skeleton and an even more awful friend.

 

He sat down next to her on the bed.

 

"kid... listen. i'm sorry i'm such a _numbskull_ ," he told her. "i wish i could say it won't happen again but i... i was having a real bad nightmare and then suddenly i heard pap screaming, you know? sometimes it's hard... to tell the timelines apart. i shouldn't have done that to you. i just didn’t know.”

 

There was a pregnant silence before Frisk spoke out. "Twice in two days. I hate it when you use magic on me."

 

He froze. 

 

"uh. sorry, kid..." 

 

She waved him off from under the bed sheets. "No... It's fine. I'm sorry. I'm just _so ready_ to be done with today."

 

Sans chuckled. “me too, kid.” He checked the clock before cuddling up against the mess of blankets that was currently Frisk. He still had an hour before it was time to get up to go to work, and cuddling with Frisk was beginning to sound incredibly appealing. He kissed the top of her head through the sheets and felt a smug satisfaction when he felt Frisk freeze from underneath the covers. "you are such a nice human, frisk," he told her, before purring. "you know... i can make my magic feel good for you, too, if you want it to."

 

She didn't seem to dare move and suddenly Sans was aware of how boldly inappropriate he was being. "just kidding, kid. i was joking. no magic. promise."

 

Frisk let out a groan that sounded strained somehow.  "You're such a jerk, Sans."

 

"i'm sorry," he apologized and he nuzzled next to her. "i know i can be very _boneheaded_ sometimes. i forget how easy it is to get _under your skin_."

 

Her head peeked out from under the covers. "Just shut up, Jokester Bones. Time for sleep."

 

Sans' grin expanded slightly. He began playing affectionately with her messy hair before his voice got serious. "i wish i could, kiddo. but we gotta talk."

 

He felt the light leave his eyes as he became uncharacteristically serious. Sans could practically _feel_ the shiver his look sent down Frisk's spine before she tensed up.

 

"who was that who you were talking to in my room earlier, kid?"

 

He heard an audible intake of breath. Frisk was hiding something. Sans just knew it. His grip slightly tightened on her hair.

 

"It's— ah— you heard that," Frisk whispered and blushed. Whether she was nervous or ashamed Sans didn't know. "This is going to sound like such a blatant lie, but that was Flowey. Flowey the flower."

 

Sans' nonexistent lips twitched. "you're kidding me, right?"

 

An imperceptible shake of the head and Sans quickly loosened his grip on her hair. "sorry," he muttered.

 

"Flowey was the first monster I met when I fell down here," Frisk elaborated before Sans had a chance to ask. It felt reassuring, how quickly she was giving him this information. "It... He's... Not very nice. And he seems to remember me from before."

 

That really caught Sans' attention. "you sure of that, kid?"

 

Frisk nodded. "His very first words to me were ‘You again?’ I never quite understood it then but at the same time he just looked so familiar. I was instantly terrified of him."

 

Sans caught a flash of blue in his vision and he knew he had to be careful. His magic always tended to act up in tune to his emotions, and he was feeling pretty fucking anxious right now. "so he knows about the resets. why didn't you tell me, kid?"

 

"Flowey seems to know things about me that I'm not exactly comfortable sharing," Frisk explained, averting her gaze. Her blush deepened. "He's always reminding me of which monsters I've killed. At first I thought he just knew about the nightmares, but I..." her voice trailed off before she continued, sounding now slightly broken. "I can't believe I let myself kill everyone."

 

"i let you do it. we’re both guilty," Sans said bitterly. Then he added "kid... you're being honest with me, right? you really don't know how you cause the RESETs?"

 

Frisk shook her head.

 

"and you can't... you really can't remember anything that's happened before, unless you're dreaming it?"

 

The kid shook her head again. "I am not like you and Flowey."

 

Sans let out a low exhalation. "frisk... you trust me, right, kid?"

 

She paused for a long moment before answering so softly and hesitantly that even in the quiet of his room he had to strain his ear drums to hear it. "Most of the time."

 

He didn't know why that hurt him as much as it did when he knew _perfectly well_ how capable he was of hurting her. She seemed to pick up on that sentiment.

 

"It's just... When you use your magic on me I just... I don't remember what happened in the past, but _I remember_ , if that makes sense."

 

For whatever reason, that made him really upset. And he couldn't help himself, he had always been just a little bit impulsive when his emotions got the best of him and he felt _so frustrated_ by her fear. And so he defiantly took a single digit and trailed it across Frisk's cheek, leaving a soft blue trail of his magic against her skin.

 

Frisk gasped, and Sans knew it was not with pain or terror because he'd made sure his magic felt light and pleasurable.

 

"What are you—"

 

"i wasn't entirely joking when i said i could make my magic feel good for you," Sans said, trailing another soft line of blue against her chin before he slowly moved across her jawline. And he knew that he was crossing a line but it was early morning and he just couldn’t bring himself to care. "i know you said you don’t like it… but you really have nothing to fear, kid. my magic can heal you. it can help you and protect you. i can't deny it isn't flattering that _you remember me enough to be afraid_ "—his eye flashed a menacing blue and Frisk shivered either from fear or pleasure or both as his finger moved down her neck and traced her collarbone—"but i'd much rather know you're not going to have a panic attack at the slightest hint of blue because, kid, you are eventually going to see _a lot_ of magic from me"

 

"Sans," Frisk said, she _pleaded_ , and he was intensely aware of how she subconsciously leaned into his touch, how her hips shifted ever so slightly toward him with a need she was entirely too innocent to recognize, but was still alluringly inviting.

 

His smile widened into a smug grin as his fingers trailed a fine line of blue down the side of her clothed torso before he ran lazy doodles on the skin just underneath the bottom of her shirt. Frisk blushed a lovely shade of scarlet and her lips parted slightly as she looked at him completely mesmerized. His voice became huskier than the censor in the back of his mind considered appropriate, sounding alarm bells that he thoroughly chose to ignore. "do you want me to keep going?"

 

Her eyes went wide and her face flushed, and she was about to answer him when her phone started ringing.

 

Sans grabbed her phone before Frisk got the chance to, feeling incredibly irritated as his magic left Frisk. Who could it be at this ungodly hour?

 

He checked caller ID amidst Frisk's protests and demands that he give her phone back.

 

_It was the fucking Monsterbrat._

"kid, if you answer this phone call i swear you're sleeping at the inn tonight," he all but groaned at her, now uncomfortably aware of the concentration of magic that had been slowly building around his pelvis.

 

The humans aboveground had called this cockblocking, he was pretty sure.

 

 She stole the phone from him and checked the screen as it rang. "It's just Monsterkid," she said innocently. _God._ _She had no clue._

 

"calling in the middle of the night," Sans snapped, covering his eyesockets with a single hand as he grit his teeth.

 

Frisk laughed at that. "It's past eight in the morning, lazy bones."

 

"c'mon, kid," Sans begged. "just let it go to voicemail. we were in the middle of _this_ ," he quickly shoved a hand under her shirt and dragged it up against her back, leaving behind a trace of pleasurable magic that made Frisk suppress a sharp moan. "don't you want me to keep going?"

 

"Um—" Frisk hesitated, her lovely blush reappearing on her cheeks, and when the phone stopped ringing on its own Sans felt oddly victorious.

 

" _good girl_ ," he hissed triumphantly in a husky tone and pulled her so much closer to him. His mouth went to her neck and he sent a flutter of blue magic against her neckline and down her spine before he spoke again against her soft skin. "you get a _reward_."

 

"Ah— _Sans_ ," Frisk moaned, and he couldn't see her with his face pressed against her neck but she sounded thoroughly embarrassed and _very aroused_. _He_   _had her_. _This was it._

 

"do you want me to keep going, kid?" 

 

Frisk froze, and the lack of resistance would have been enough, but Sans _knew_ that she was enjoying this and she was acting hesitant but mostly receptive and he was in a mood to hear her _beg_.

 

He pressed a hand against her navel and bit her earlobe.

 

" _do you_?"

 

"Um— Sans— I—"

 

It took all of Sans' willpower to not send a wave of Gaster Blaster to Frisk's phone when it rang again. If that was Monsterkid again, _he was going to murder him_.

 

Frisk checked the caller ID. It was Monsterkid. "Um—this might be important," she said, ignoring Sans’ protests of “ _are you kidding me?_ ” and _answered_ \- _the fucking - phone_.

 

Sans took his hands off of her in frustration and pushed himself away from the kid.

 

"Hi, MK. You're up early." He could practically hear Frisk's sweet smile in her voice; it made him sick with jealousy. It didn't make him as sick as hearing the sound of Monsterkid's irritating voice over the phone, though.

 

"Wow, the capital? No way!" Frisk sounded excited. Sans couldn't understand what she was so excited about. Monsterkid's _annoying voice_ sounded like an awfully inbred bird making dying noises over the phone. He sounded like a child going through puberty.

 

He probably was, indeed, just a _child_ going through _fucking puberty_.

 

"I wish I could go but I promised Papyrus I'd go fishing with him today," Frisk said, and Sans immediately felt a rush of affection for his amazing brother. "Yeah, maybe some other time. Hah, yeah, you know how it is."

 

Then she laughed so readily and joyfully that Sans found himself wondering if it would mess up the timeline if Monsterkid met his Gaster Blasters. "You'll only be gone for three days! We'll see each other soon." Frisk smiled. "I'll miss you too. Yeah, we should meet up before you leave. Breakfast at Grillby's?"

 

Sans was murderous. 

 

"See you then, MK," Frisk said and then she finally hung up. 

 

Sans tried really hard to keep the jealousy out of his voice. He was not entirely sure he was being successful. "that boy likes you, frisk."

 

Frisk blushed. "No way, it's not like that!"

 

He raised a brow bone at her and gave what he hope was a teasing grin. But he felt the lights in his eye sockets go dim, and he was still mostly aroused himself from touching her and, frankly, he was just infuriated, why was he trying to play this stupid thing off as a joke? "he calls you first thing in the morning? how long has this been going on?"

 

"MK is a morning person," Frisk said, avoiding his question. "And we're just friends! He told me he already likes someone."

 

Sans almost laughed. " _no way_ , kid. who?"

 

"He won't say," Frisk told him and this time, Sans laughed for real because this was clearly some _middle school anime bullshit_ and he was _so angry_ at the world. 

 

"he tells you that he likes someone but he won't say who? it's _you_ , kid. how naive can you be?"

 

Frisk's blush intensified. She glared at him. "I am not naive. You have no clue. You've never even hung out with Monsterkid."

 

Sans laughed even harder. "i hardly think i'm at fault if i never want to ‘pal around’ with a kid who's _decades my junior_."

 

"You 'pal around' with me, don't you?" she snapped at him.

 

Sans didn't know how exactly to respond to that. 

 

"You know, sometimes you can be a real jerk," she told him, making Sans grit his teeth. This was _Teenage Rebel Frisk_ again and he was getting _really tired of her shit_. "You don't _know everything_. And you need to _stop_ treating me like I'm _some little kid_!"

 

"maybe if you stopped acting like a child, i would stop treating you like one," Sans snapped back, causing Frisk to roll her eyes at him and get off the bed. 

 

" _Whatever!_ " Frisk blew him off with a snotty attitude as she put on her slippers.

 

Sans snorted. "yeah, that’s _real mature_ , kid."

 

She gave him a snotty look and walked out the door. Sans could hear Papyrus’ yells greeting the kid from the kitchen.

 

And now Sans was pissed off. He didn't know if he wanted to strangle Monsterkid first or go straight to Toriel to tell on her teenage brat.

 

He took a deep breath when his alarm clock finally went off.  What a _garbage start_ to a _garbage day_.

 

 

 

When he finally made it to work at the sentry station, his moved had not improved. It was 9:05. Frisk was probably out having breakfast with Monsterkid. She was probably out having breakfast with Monsterkid _right now_ and Sans was stuck at his shitty job as a sentry where nothing interesting ever happened, save for the times they met.

 

He had gone up to Toriel's door _so many times_ , but he kept hesitating when it was time to decide on a knock-knock joke. " _Knock, knock_ \- _Wise_ \- Wise _your adoptive daughter such a complete bitch, Toriel?_ " hardly seemed like the appropriate joke to start a conversation with, but it was the only joke Sans felt like making right about now.

 

He had gone up to the door for what was probably the fifth time and was about to finally knock and whine to Toriel when suddenly a line of thought made him stop.

 

He was about to ask Frisk’s goat-mom for advice on how to handle Frisk again. Wasn’t this a little bit much like co-parenting?

 

He decided not to knock.

 

It was 9:25 now. He had been working for about 20 minutes. Pap's breakfast spaghetti had been predictably terrible. So what if Frisk was there; _surely_ he could take a break and go have a real breakfast at Grillby's, right?

 

He suddenly felt like a huge bottle of syrup and maybe a stack of pancakes could solve all his problems. And if he saw Frisk with Monsterkid there, _fine_. He wasn’t going to make a scene. He didn’t even have to make his presence obvious. He could just… safely chaperone… from a distance. Make sure that the kids were okay. Mostly make sure _fucking Monsterkid_ didn’t lay a _hand_ on Frisk.

 

Sure, he could go to Grillby’s, even if Frisk was mad with him and was currently having a bit of a breakfast date. They didn’t _own_ the restaurant. Sans had been the one who’d _introduced Frisk_ to _fucking Grillby’s_ , after all.

 

He left a note crumpled up into a ball at his sentry station—“out patROLLING”—and took a shortcut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know your story is very morally wrong when FLOWEY THE FLOWER IS THE VOICE OF COMMON SENSE.
> 
> Also, if Frisk and Sans seem a little bipolar that is... intentional. (Frisk because she is a moody teenager; Sans because byronic heroes own my soul and also because the poor guy happens to be infatuated with a moody teenager, hashtag-life-means-suffering).


	7. Chapter 7

 Grillby's was, by far, Sans' favorite restaurant.  
  
It wasn't just because it was the closest restaurant to his house. Sans could quickly and easily go eat anywhere, anytime. He could just as easily go to Grillby’s as he could go to the fancy MTT Resort restaurant where he sometimes performed, or to the cozy and relatively unknown café inside the Temmie Village. There was just something about Grillby's that made him feel welcome and at ease. Perhaps it was the people who frequented Grillby's, because everyone knew him by now and greeted him warmly, or maybe because Grillby himself had become a close and respected friend who always has a bottle of ketchup ready for him. Or maybe it was just the food. All the delicious, delicious food.  
  
Grillby's had the most delicious pancakes and the house syrup was to die for.  
  
Yet when Sans entered the restaurant today and quickly spotted Frisk and the Monsterbrat, he wasn’t so sure he would be having a nice time. Frisk looked so happy with Monsterkid, chatting enthusiastically with him about what was probably some _childish bullshit_. Maybe some new toy or game or whatever. What did kids like nowadays, anyway? Whatever it was, it was probably not something Frisk could _really_ care about.  
  
That wasn't entirely true though, was it. She had absolutely beamed when Papyrus had come back home with that doll he'd found while out patrolling a few months back, hadn't she?  
  
Sans rather disliked where his train of thought was going—that had been almost an entire year ago, anyway—and so he focused his attention on finding the unoccupied table furthest from Frisk's. It wasn't that he cared if they saw him, but he was really not in the mood to have Frisk thinking he was _spying on them_ or anything.   
  
He sat down at a corner table and then proceeded to almost jump up and shoot a Gaster Blaster when a stern voice greeted him from behind, scaring the bejesus out of him.  
  
"Sans," Grillby said sternly. He looked entirely judgmental. "Don't you think this is getting a bit much?"  
  
Sans was in no mood. He was so pissed about this entire situation. "it's called _chaperoning_ , b."  
  
The fire monster raised a fiery eyebrow at him. "You should really stop this nonsense. You are beginning to look like either a jealous lover or a helicopter parent, and frankly I'm not sure which one is worse."  
  
Sans visibly sulked and quickly muttered under his breath, eyes shooting daggers at Monsterkid from across the restaurant. "what in the fuck is even a helicopter, we live underground for fucks sake."  
  
Grillby's eyebrow raised further up and he withdrew the syrup. "I'm sorry, what was that?"  
  
“ _erm_ ,” Sans looked up sheepishly at the bartender and forced a huge grin. "i said—thanks for the pancakes, b. you’re great.”   
  
"I _thought_ that's what I heard," Grillby said, setting down his tray of pancakes and syrup for Sans, and then he moved along to help the other customers.

 

Sans ate his breakfast very slowly. After all, he wasn't in a hurry. It was just a coincidence that Frisk and her friend didn't seem to be either. Monsterkid was taking it _real slow_ with those waffles. So what if he didn't have any hands and had to do everything with his tail. He was probably just trying to prolong the time he spent in Frisk's company.  
  
_That little fucker._  
  
The Monsterbrat said something to Frisk. Sans ate another spoonful of syrup with pancake as Frisk laughed so hard the sound reached his eardrums.  
  
She hadn't laughed that hard with Sans _in a long time_.  
  
Then Frisk pointed to herself and said something, and Monsterkid just looked at her with _fucking adoration in his eyes, fucking pissing Sans off._  
  
The brat was _dead_. He was _so dead_.   
  
Finally, after what felt like _ages_ , the little shit that was Monsterkid finished his food, somehow managing to not choke himself in the process. Sans bitterly guessed that must have been a huge accomplishment for a brat who probably still had his food chewed for him at home.   
  
He briefly wondered how old Frisk was and tried to reassure himself that she was _probably_ , at _least_ , a _lot_ older than Monsterkid. He didn't think hard about the numbers.  
  
He was about to down the last of his syrup in one gulp and officially end the longest and worst meal he’d ever had when suddenly he saw Monsterkid say something nervously  and a deep blush forming on Frisk's face.  
  
Sans' breath caught in his throat. Monsterkid must be confessing his feelings for Frisk.  
  
He felt a powerful surge of _jealousy_ and _hatred_ and he _very nearly_ summoned his bones, his Gaster Blasters, _the works_ , _his best attack_ , and forced the timeline to _end right then and there before he let fucking Monsterkid have Frisk_ but then Frisk shook her head, eyes wide with a sort of shy surprise, and she was saying something rather fast and visibly uncomfortable.   
  
Sans laughed _so loudly_ , people around him started to stare. He didn’t have to eavesdrop to know that the Monsterbrat had been _rejected_.  
  
Sans left a big tip for Grillby and "took a shortcut", taking the last of his syrup with him. His break was officially over.  
  
  
After Grillby's, Sans went to the door and spent a good half hour just exchanging bad knock knock jokes with Toriel. They talked about Frisk, too, but the conversation was starting to steer into parenting advice and so he barely listened. Then he spent the rest of the morning and the better part of his afternoon prank calling Monsterkid, leaving thinly-veiled and childish insults on his voicemail when the brat stopped answering the phone.  
  
It wasn’t the best of his work days but it was certainly not the worst.  
  
  
  
Sans teleported himself to the lake the second he finished his shift at the hot dog stand. He was not surprised to hear Papyrus yelling when he arrived, but that did not make the situation any less amusing.  
  
"I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL MAKE YOU THE MOST DELICIOUS SEAFOOD PASTA AFTER WE CATCH A FISH, HUMAN!"  
  
Even from a distance, Sans could see Frisk's shy yet frantic gestures as she tried to pacify his brother, who thoroughly ignored her.  
  
"IT WILL TASTE DELICIOUS! YOU WILL BE SO IMPRESSED! NYEH NYEH NYEH!!!!"  
  
Sans chuckled. He'd warned the kid, hadn't he?  
  
"Papyrus, please, you have to be quiet if we want to catch fish," Sans heard Frisk say as he approached them. Sans chuckled. Frisk herself was half-laughing as well.   
  
Pap saw Sans first. "BROTHER!! YOU MADE IT!!!"  
  
Sans grinned and waved lazily as Frisk turned around, lightning fast, a deep blush forming on her cheeks when her gaze met his.  
  
"hi, pap, frisk," Sans said, giving Frisk a particularly cocky grin. "i'd say it's nice to see you two, but i see you're already _fishing for compliments_."  
  
Papyrus groaned and Frisk averted her gaze nervously. Sans chuckled and ruffled her hair playfully once he got close enough to them. "how was _breakfast_ , kiddo?"  
  
Papyrus immediately answered for her, for which Frisk seemed thoroughly grateful. "THE HUMAN DID NOT EAT THE BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI I MADE! HONESTLY SANS I THINK YOUR FOOD FROM LAST NIGHT MADE HER ILL, FOR SHE DID NOT HAVE A SINGLE BITE OF IT."  
  
Sans snorted. "yeah, i guess so, pap. sorry, frisk. i didn't mean to make you feel so _blue_ last night," he winked at her, fully aware that he was half-flirting, and he trailed a single finger down his own jawline. Frisk blushed so deeply that even Papyrus noticed.  
  
"BLUE? THE HUMAN LOOKS AS RED AS A TOMATO, SANS."—Sans literally laughed out loud at that—"IN FACT SHE MIGHT BE RUNNING A FEVER. SHE DIDN'T WANT TO EAT MY PASTA LUNCH WITH ME THIS AFTERNOON EITHER. SHE SPENT THE ENTIRE TIME ON HER PHONE."  
  
A sharp twist of jealousy and Sans raised an eyebrow at her. "phone?"  
  
"I was talking to mom," Frisk muttered begrudgingly, face still red and refusing to look at him. "About my friend"—her eyes narrowed and she briefly glared at Sans—"...you _tattletale_."  
  
"oh," Sans said with mock guiltlessness, a huge shit-eating grin plastered on his face. "so did she approve of the wedding or are you going to have to elope?"  
  
"It's none of your business!" Frisk exclaimed, blushing furiously and once again averting her gaze.  
  
Papyrus was intrigued. "WILL YOU BE GETTING MARRIED, HUMAN?"  
  
"No! Sans is just making things up because he's _jealous_!" Frisk snapped.  
  
"JEALOUS?" Pap repeated, but Sans just scoffed.  
  
"i am _hardly_ jealous of you having a little friend, _kid_."  
  
" _What-ever!_ " she snapped at him, "Just stop telling mom about every little thing I do!"  
  
" _oy,_ _kid_ , watch the attitude," Sans scolded her. "you know, you've been really pushing it with me today."  
  
" _Ground_ _me_ , then," Frisk said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. Papyrus' eye sockets widened.  
  
"HUMAN! SANS! PLEASE CEASE YOUR ARGUING, WE CAN ALL BE FRIENDS!”  
  
And sans was _so done_ bickering with Frisk. He pointedly focused exclusively on Papyrus. "you're right, pap. there's no point in arguing with _children_. so did you remember to put in real bait this time or are you using your pasta again?"  
  
"MY GREAT PASTA IS BETTER THAN REAL BAIT, SANS!" Papyrus exclaimed, looking relieved once the tension eased even though Sans was now pointedly ignoring the human, who herself was quietly glaring at the lake from the place she had sat down a few feet away.  
  
Sans forced out a chuckle and he pointed at a distance from them by the trees. "uh... then i hope you don't mind if i read over there while you fish. this might take you a while."  
  
"SANS, YOU BROUGHT A JOKE BOOK?"  
  
"yup," Sans said smugly, pulling out a big joke book from behind his back with magic. "i always carry one."  
  
"HOW DID THAT FIT INSIDE YOUR POCKETS, I DON'T UNDERSTAND."  
  
Sans laughed a real laugh this time. "i dunno, pap."  
  
Then he sat down and began rereading a particularly interesting chapter about timespace from his favorite Quantum Mechanics textbook. Maybe he could keep working on his time machine later. He had given up on it ages ago, but it was sure sounding more appealing than dealing with Frisk right now.  
  
He fell asleep reading and dreamt of Frisk.

 

 

"SANS! WAKE UP, YOU LAZY BONES! IT'S TIME TO GO HOME!"   
  
Sans sat up, wide awake now thanks to the sound of Pap's screeching. He looked around wildly. "where's the kid?"  
  
"THE HUMAN SAID THEY WERE GOING TO SLEEP AT THE INN TONIGHT. I TOLD THEM THERE WAS A NEW METTATON SERIES PREMIERING TODAY BUT SHE WAS NOT INTERESTED. SHE PROBABLY KNOWS METTATON'S COOKING SHOW IS THE BEST AND DECIDED NOT TO BOTHER WATCHING ANYTHING NEW, BUT I THINK THAT IS A GRAVE MISTAKE."  
  
Sans barely listened as he hid his disappointment. So the kid wanted it like that, huh?  
  
"you go ahead, pap. i'll get back home soon. thanks for waking me up."  
  
"I'LL GET STARTED ON DINNER! SEAFOOD WITH PASTA IS STILL ON THE MENU!! ...EVEN THOUGH WE DIDN'T CATCH ANY FISH!!!"  
  
Sans chuckled at that. It looked like he was doomed to yet another barely edible pasta dinner courtesy of Papyrus. He would have complained to Undyne by now about her crappy cooking lessons, but he had stopped caring so long ago.  
  
Every talk he had with Undyne about her subpar cooking lessons would just end up being erased when the world eventually RESET. So why bother? There was no reason to care.  
  
But now he was stuck with the prospect of having dinner without the kid for the first time in months, and he found the idea almost intolerable.  
  
He had the depressing realization that he not only wanted the kid but also needed her. He had allowed whatever was left of his sanity to completely rely on this kid. Sans had grown to depend on her ever-changing presence to keep his RESETs, he _so often_ worried about them— but at least with Frisk, the timelines would always be just a little bit different. As long as he had Frisk, there remained a possibility of change.  
  
The strong pull he felt towards the kid told him that she was not at the Inn but hiding inside the cave behind the waterfall. He almost snorted. Absolutely _no surprises_ there. And he wanted to go to her, to give into his pull, but he really thought it best to just give her space.  
  
They were both still _so pissed_ about the whole Monsterkid thing.  
  
Taking one deep breath and hating his neediness, he took out his cell phone and texted the kid.

hey - Sans

i'll miss you tonight – Sans

And there was no reply, of course, but Sans didn't know what else to do. Toriel had given him all sorts of conflicting advice. She'd said that Frisk would probably need to be given plenty of space as she grew up, but also consistency and defined boundaries. She had discussed in length with him the benefits of— _ugh_ , he _really_ hadn't wanted to hear it—“ _authoritative parenting_ ” over permissiveness, of positive reinforcement over physical punishment, of fostering independence with natural consequences over _whatever the heck else_ it was she was talking about. And Sans had told her, more than once, " _i'm not her_ _dad_ , toriel", but Toriel was having none of it, would agree with him that he was not but then go _on and on_ about how Frisk _needed_ a parental figure in her life outside the ruins, how Frisk wouldn't be able to survive on her own without an adult with her to guide her, and in the end Sans had gotten pretty pissed—" _why don't you just leave the ruins and do it yourself_ "—and he had felt pretty _low_ and _pretty_ _guilty_ , because _of course_ Toriel felt the responsibility to stay to help any other fallen children, and here he was _fully capable_ of being the adult figure that Frisk supposedly _needed_ but instead he insisted on acting like he was _just_ _Frisk's goofy friend_ simply because of _how badly he wanted to_ _fuck her_.   
  
And now he didn't know what to do, _he had no clue_ , and it was getting pretty late and Frisk was still hiding by the waterfall. Would she catch a cold? What if a monster got to her? Undyne sometimes patrolled close to Snowdin at night; what if _she_ got to her? And a part of him just wanted to go to the cave and hold Frisk and kiss her and love her, and the other part was _horrified_ , because she had _just spent an entire day_ displaying _just how thoroughly immature and childish_ she still was, she had _gotten on his_ _every nerve_ , and he had been _so close_ to just—  
  
_Spanking her_ —  
  
_And then fucking her right then and there—_  
  
And he still felt the strong pull in his chest that told him to go to the waterfall just to be physically close to _the goddamn kid_.  
  
He would never understand _how_ or _why_ it was that his magic had grown to be _so attuned_ to her.  
  
It seemed like the universe was still bent on playing him this one big, cruel joke.  
  
And he couldn’t go back home while Frisk was still alone inside that stupid cave behind the waterfall, but he couldn’t exactly go there and force her out either, and so he stayed sitting by the lake for the longest time, just focusing on his weird connection to her and making sure she was okay.  
  
He worried sick about her.  
  
It got so late.  
  
Papyrus called him five times, and each time he lied and said he would be right over, until in the end Pap called and told him that he was going to sleep without a bedtime story, and Sans felt guilt.  
  
Then finally, when it was almost midnight, he felt— _somehow_ —that Frisk had finally begun heading back into town.   
  
And he couldn’t help himself. She was out in the open now and he was _so worried_ , he took a shortcut to just out of sight from her and followed her.  
  
He almost had a heart attack when a huge boulder almost made Frisk fall along the waterfall.  
  
He felt something soar affectionately in his chest when Frisk took a moment to observe his sentry station.  
  
And mostly he worried, he _really worried_ , because it was almost pitch black outside and it had gotten _so cold_ and sometimes he saw Frisk shiver but if she knew he was there, she might never forgive him. She was already _so angry_ at him for some unknown reason and _tibia_ honest, despite his worrying, so was he.  
  
He felt a gigantic relief when Frisk finally entered the Inn and he teleported to his bed pretty much immediately. The emotional rollercoaster that Frisk had put him through today had left him _so bone tired_.  
  
He was about to fall asleep when his phone beeped, and something in his chest momentarily perked up when he saw that it was Frisk.

Frisk – I miss you too

Frisk – Sorry about today

And he smiled because he _loved this kid_ , he _really did_ , and he wanted to stay mad but he forgave her pretty much instantly. And it was _scary_ and it was _wonderful_ the effect she could have on him when he had previously been _so indifferent_ , he was completely under her control and there was nothing he could do. He was deeply, madly and irrevocably in love and he would wait for her a hundred years if it meant he got to have her in the end.

It was after midnight now but he still texted her.

wanna go to hotland tomorrow? – Sans

He knew she would be enthusiastic but still smiled when she quickly responded.

Frisk – YES!!! :D

Frisk – Omg. I love you.

Sans felt so much warm affection for her that his room went blue.

I love you too, Frisk. - Sans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. Time to go back to the game and get myself reacquainted with Hotland.
> 
> Also, I'm not sure about the paragraph after Frisk texts Sans. I might go back and change it eventually.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowie, some of this was very hard to write. *cringes*
> 
> I'd warn that there's going to be mega spoilers ahead but they're going to be mixed in with so many headcanons plus stuff I'll make up because fan!fiction, it might end up being hard to tell what's a spoiler or not. Also, I sure hope people are reading this after already finishing the game more than once, because if not... What are you doing here!? Go play this awesome game!
> 
> OH OH AND KAITLYNFIREBREATHER DID ANOTHER TWO THINGS YOU GUYS ANOTHER AWESOME AND HILARIOUS TWO THINGS:
> 
>  
> 
> http://kaithlynfirebreather.deviantart.com/art/Chaperoning-from-Creep-by-KenyaKetchup-587731234 (From the last chapter and it's PURE AWESOMENESS)
> 
> and
> 
> http://kaithlynfirebreather.deviantart.com/art/Sweet-dreams-Sansy-587735359 (Sans vs MK AND ALSO AWESOMENESS)

He dreamt of a timeline he rarely dreamt about. The timeline when he'd first met Frisk.  
  
The kid looked  _so young_. He'd forgotten how young she had been. She couldn't have been older than ten or eleven and Sans, while not the tallest monster, still  _towered_  over her.  
  
She looked  _so_   _weak_. _Completely_   _unremarkable_. He had been  _so unimpressed_  by her.  
  
The dream changed and he was dreaming about  _that_  timeline again— the one where he'd given in and taken Frisk. The kid lay motionless on his bed and she looked  _so much more appealing_ , but not, Sans realized now, significantly older than when they had first met. It had been a year or two  _at most_ ,  _perhaps_  three but he knew  _very well_  that last possibility wasn’t quite likely. And Sans was painfully aware now that he was about to _defile a child_ , but he couldn't exactly change that particular timeline _anyway_ and so he _still forced himself inside of her_ and she _still had felt so incredible_.  
  
He still  _really regretted_   _that he_   _hadn't kept going_.  
  
And then he killed her again in a wave of blue magic and the dream changed again, and this one was much more interesting.  
  
He was dreaming of a timeline that had happened  _years_   _ago_ , back when he was casually dating the innkeeper. It had been nothing serious—Sandy's husband had just left her and Sans had  _plenty of commitment issues_  thank-you-very-much-RESETs—and of course by "nothing serious" it meant basically just sex, which Sans _had never minded_. And he hadn't thought of Frisk then, hadn’t even _known_ her back then, but of course in in the dream he did. Sans wished that Sandy was Frisk. He was pounding into her from behind, rough, _just like he liked it_ , pulling Sandy's head back by her long bunny ears. And he had always sort of favored bunny monsters when it came to sex but this time he _really wished_ that instead he were pulling on a fistful of _short brown hair_.  
  
The dream changed again and it was a recollection of his current timeline this time. Frisk was panting softly, her face a lovely flush of pink, lips slightly parted as he let his magic send waves of pleasure down her spine. He was hearing her moan again.  
  
" _Ah_ —  _Sans_ —"  
  
And he had been  _so close_ , had been  _so close to having her_  that time, perhaps in the dream he could keep going— Pin her to the bed and  _take her rough and hard_ — _Pound the memory into her_ — She was probably so _eager_ for him—  
  
_He really wanted to hear her scream his name._  
  
He was vaguely aware of his magic starting to act up as he slept.   
  
And then he suddenly felt a small corporeal body jump over him energetically and a pair of delicate hands wrap around him in a hug before Frisk’s voice yelled cheerfully above him.  
  
" _Wake up_ , sleepyhead!"  
  
Sans was abruptly wide awake. His eye sockets shot wide open to find Frisk  _smiling on top of him_  and she had  _so startled_   _him_ that  _he screamed_.  


A wave of anxious blue magic filled the room.  
  
  
  
Breakfast that morning was a very awkward affair.  
  
Frisk had quieted down significantly and was nervously playing with her breakfast spaghetti. Sans couldn't blame her, he was still pretty rattled himself. Meanwhile, Papyrus was just glaring at Sans. The taller skeleton wasn't quite sure what had happened between Sans and Frisk earlier, but he  _had_  heard Sans' shout and he _had_ seen the flash of blue light coming out of Sans' bedroom before Frisk gave out a scream of her own and Papyrus was positively sure that whatever had happened was Sans’ fault, as if he'd lost control of his magic on purpose to scare the bejesus out of Frisk.  
  
Sans hadn't. Not really. Frisk had startled the magic out of him.  
  
"HUMAN, IF THE BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS NOT SWEET ENOUGH FOR YOU I CAN GET YOU MORE SYRUP FROM THE PANTRY."  
  
"or you could have some of mine," Sans said casually with a smile and a wink, holding up the syrup bottle he had been drinking from.  
  
Papyrus' eye sockets narrowed with frustration. "SANS, THAT IS DISGUSTING."  
  
Sans just shrugged and took another swig of syrup.  
  
"Um, no thanks, on the syrup... Thanks," Frisk said in her soft voice, nervously playing with her white t-shirt. Sans had never seen her wear it before. It fit… a bit more snugly than her baggy sweaters and the clothes she usually borrowed from him. He found that he could barely keep his eye sockets off of her. "Um… Sans? When are we leaving?"  
  
Sans chuckled. "you sure are in a hurry today, kid."  
  
"HUH?? WHERE ARE YOU TWO GOING?" Papyrus asked.  
  
"hotland," Sans answered simply, his grin widening.  
  
"WHAT!! YOU'RE GOING ON A DAY TRIP AND YOU NEGLECTED TO TELL ME!?!? YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME SOONER, SANS! YOU KNOW I HAD PLANS FOR LESSONS WITH UNDYNE TODAY, I WOULD HAVE CANCELLED!!!"  
  
"i figured undyne’s lessons would be your top priority, bro," Sans said, winking at Frisk. He loved the shade of pink that tinted her cheeks.  
  
"WELL... OF COURSE! BUT I AM THE HUMAN'S BEST FRIEND! SHE WILL BE SO DISAPPOINTED TO VISIT HOTLAND WITHOUT ME. ALSO, I WOULD HAVE MADE SURE THAT US THREE WOULD HAVE LEFT BY NOW. THERE ARE ONLY SO MANY HOURS IN THE DAY, SANS, YOU LAZY BONES! IT'S TEN PAST NINE."  
  
"i know a shortcut," Sans said with a smug grin, not taking his eye sockets off Frisk, who was now shifting uncomfortably and rather adorably in her seat.  
  
Sans' shit eating grin widened when he sent a soft flutter of blue magic up her arm while Papyrus wasn’t looking. She audibly gasped, blushing furiously.  
  
He was  _so happy_  to have her with him again.  
  
"ARE YOU ALRIGHT, HUMAN?” Papyrus asked. Frisk, red as a tomato, quickly nodded and focused on her plate. Most of her breakfast was already gone. Sans felt pity that she had to eat it; Papyrus was still not the best cook. “I AM GLAD YOU ARE. AS I WAS SAYING… SANS! YOU AND YOUR SHORTCUTS! MAYBE SOMEDAY, YOU WILL KNOW THE TRUE VALUE OF A WALK!"  
  
"i  _like_  walks. they’re better than running."  
  
"WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?"  
  
"because  _the fridge is already running_ , so what's the point of me running too?" He noticed with some satisfaction that Frisk chuckled at that.  
  
"OH MY GOD, SANS. WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME."  
  
Sans just shrugged.

 

“SANS YOU ARE IMPOSSIBLE.”

 

His grin never left Sans. "to answer your question, kid: my shift over there starts at 11. how about we leave then?"  
  
Frisk looked at him with disbelief. "You have a  _third job_?"  
  
"i have several jobs. how do you think i pay rent?"  
  
"But... You're so  _lazy_  at all of them," Frisk protested. "Who keeps  _hiring_  you?"  
  
Sans responded with a sincere laugh and took another swig of syrup straight from the bottle. He had already thrown away Pap's dreadful spaghetti at the first opportunity.

 

"so how is undyne doing, bro? i haven't seen her since the monday check-in," Sans asked Papyrus. "is she still losing her mind waiting for humans?"  
  
"SANS! YOU KNOW I HATE LYING TO HER. UNDYNE IS FINE. SHE WOULD BE BETTER IF WE TOLD HER ABOUT THE HUMAN, I AM SURE THEY WOULD BE GREAT FRIENDS."  
  
" _sure_ , let's ask the kid," Sans said with good humor. "hey, human kid, how do you feel about trying to become friends with a murderous fish?"  
  
"Um— I'd rather not..."  
  
Sans winked at her. "there you go, pap. no telling undyne about the human, per her request." Then he added, as an afterthought, "you know, kid, i'm actually surprised we've been able to hide you for this long. haven't we known you for over a year?"  
  
"Um— It was November of 201X when I left the ruins, I think, so almost two years actually."  
  
"whoa. time flies, huh?"  
  
Frisk shrugged and kept playing with the little bit of spaghetti that was left on her plate.  
  
"you know, we haven't thrown you a  _single_  birthday party. isn't that something you humans celebrate?"  
  
Papyrus screeched at that. "OH NO!!! MY BROTHER, THOUGH LAZY AND USUALLY OBLIVIOUS, IS RIGHT!! I CAN FEEL OUR FRIENDSHIP LEVEL DECREASING DUE TO MY THOUGHTLESSNESS. WE MUST CORRECT THIS GRAVE MISTAKE! HUMAN!! YOU MUST TELL US WHEN YOUR BIRTHDAY IS!!!"  
  
Frisk laughed nervously. Despite Pap’s noisy flailing, Sans’ eye sockets were keenly trained on her. "I, um— I actually prefer not to celebrate any of my birthdays down here. Bad experience. The first one, I was still with Toriel and she made me a 'traditional snail cake'"—she gagged—"So it's coming up, but I'd rather not."  
  
And Sans couldn't help himself and his morbid curiosity. He  _didn't want to know_ , he  _didn’t want to ask_ , and yet  _he did_. "how old are you turning this year, kid?"  
  
Frisk hesitated. He caught a certain pride in her voice when she answered. "Um… Fourteen. Next month, on the 3rd."  
  
Sans froze. _He felt his sins crawling on his back._  
  
And he was suddenly  _so glad_  that Papyrus was there because his loud voice pretty much took all attention away from him.  
  
"HUMAN!!! I AM SO HAPPY YOU SHARED THAT WITH US! NEXT MONTH, ON THE 3RD, I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL THROW YOU A SURPRISE BIRTHDAY PARTY! IT WILL SO SURPRISE YOU THAT IT WILL BE THE GREATEST PARTY YOU'LL EVER HAVE! THERE WILL BE PASTA! AND PRESENTS! AND EVEN... TRADITIONAL SNAIL CAKE!"—Frisk paled at that considerably—"AND I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AS YOUR BEST FRIEND WILL MAKE SURE YOU HAVE. A GREAT. TIME!!!! NYEH HEH HEH!!!"  
  
"Okay, let's go," Frisk said suddenly, getting up and slinging her backpack over her shoulder before walking over to Sans. Sans, who at that moment felt incapable of doing anything other than sit there and stare at her. Horrified. "Let's go before he decides not to wait and feeds me snail cake."  
  
Sans' mind was too numb. "...what?"  
  
" _Sans_!" she grabbed his hand and tried to pull him up. The simple touch sent shivers down his spine  _and_   _he felt_   _guilt_ ,  _guilt_ —  
  
" _Come on_! I really want to see Hotland! I can't wait as long as you can. _Please_?"  
  
And Papyrus was yelling something but Sans wasn't listening. His eye sockets were trained on Frisk and he was _hyperaware_ of her soft hand touching his, the lovely way she was pouting, the plumpness of her lips, and he was feeling  _so much guilt_  and  _so much desire_ and he was feeling _so weak_ —  
  
_She wasn’t even fourteen._  
  
And he was transfixed and he was  _guilty_ and  _he wanted her_.   
  
He was vaguely aware that he was whispering. "kid...  _whatever you want_."  
  
And he took her hand and took them through a shortcut without even saying goodbye to Papyrus.  
  
  
  
Hotland greeted them, unsurprisingly, with a wave of heat.  
  
Frisk’s soft hand lingered in his for a brief moment as she took in their surroundings. "Oh my gosh. Hotland!!! But I didn't mean for you to just have us disappear! We didn't even say goodbye to—" Something clearly distracted her and the kid suddenly beamed from ear to ear. She was the happiest he’d even seen her. " _Whoa!_  It's _so hot_ in here!"  
  
"it's always hot in _hot_ land," Sans teased her, stating the obvious. Frisk looked amazed. To Sans, she looked _amazing_.  
  
He _had so much guilt_.  
  
"I haven't felt actual heat in  _so long_ ," she sighed happily. "Snowdin is always so cold. I thought all of Underground would be like that."  
  
"heh— no, kid. the weather changes down here depending on where you go. i've been told that waterfall has the nicest weather, but  _tibia_  honest, weather isn't something i notice a skele- _ton_ ," he winked.  
  
Frisk rolled her eyes at his bad puns. "Well it feels like an oven to me in here," she told him enthusiastically. "I should have worn shorts."  
  
Sans tried hard not to focus on how appealing the idea of Frisk in shorts sounded to him. His eye sockets wandered down to her legs.  
  
She was so... _tempting_.  
  
He _really_ shouldn't have brought her here where she would be alone with him.  
  
Her hands reached his and she pulled rather enthusiastically, eyes wide with wonder. She was looking at him again in that wonderful way of hers, that made him feel like she thought he was the moon and stars. "Aren't you going to show me around? Where does that elevator lead?"  
  
Sans let his fingers intertwine with hers. "if you take that elevator, it will take you through hotland and into the core that powers the underground”—he paused and winked at her—“pretty boring stuff, huh?"  
  
"No way! I wanna see!" Frisk said enthusiastically. "Please?"  
  
"you'll run into guards if you wander too far from here, sweetheart," Sans told her, pulling Frisk closer to him and feeling his chest soar as a pink flush painted her cheeks. "i'm afraid you're stuck selling hot dogs with me unless you want to try out some puzzles. there isn't really much else for you to safely do here."  
  
"We could have a picnic," Frisk suggested, making Sans laugh.   
  
"ha, i don't think a morning picnic eating hot dogs would be—"  
  
"No!" Frisk laughed. "I brought us breakfast, silly. You really don't think you're the only one throwing away Papyrus’ breakfast spaghetti, do you?" Sans looked at Frisk with disbelief. Then he felt himself fall in love with the kid all over again when  _she_  winked at  _him_  and whispered, "I hide my pasta in a plastic bag inside my backpack."  
  
"wow, kid. i  _cannoli_  believe you could pull that  _pasta_  my brother," he said, truly impressed. He’d never even noticed her doing that.  
  
Frisk groaned at his bad puns but was still grinning at him. "You are the  _worst_. Where should we eat?"

 

Sans gave it some thought before his own grin widened and he pulled her into a quick embrace. "i think i know just the place." And then he transported them into a scenic spot from which they could see the Core and the lava underneath.  
  
Frisk gasped when she saw it. "What  _is_  that?"  
  
"the core. weren't we just talking about it?" he teased her.

  
Frisk stuck her tongue out at him. The sliver of pink made Sans  _weak at the knees_.  
  
_Weak, weak, weak..._  
  
"We should go there. Not today. But eventually," she told him as she took a blanket out of her backpack, two cinnamon bunnies and a bottle of syrup for him and a bottle of water for her. Sans was impressed, she had really thought this through. "I also brought you ketchup. I wasn't sure what you'd prefer."  
  
She was  _amazing_.  
  
"kid,  _you’re perfect_ ," Sans said in a playful tone. And his voice was light, but  _he meant it._  
  
He loved the shy smile that graced her lips.  
  
He lewdly wondered _how widely_ those lips might stretch, if she might be able to accommodate his usual girth or if he'd have to, uh, _adjust_ himself in order to _successfully shove his dick down her throat_.  
  
The sudden thought both pleased and horrified him. Sans forced himself to look at the core and away from Frisk. The dreams from this morning had left him still feeling so, _ah_ , _tense_.  
  
This kid _really_ shouldn’t be alone with him.

 

He tried hard to remember what they had been talking about. "anything specific you wanna see at the core?"

  
Frisk looked... _determined_. "King Asgore's castle is beyond the core, right?"

  
Sans nodded, but the lights in his eye sockets went slightly dim. He did not like where this seemed to be going.  


"I have the seventh soul," Frisk said casually. Sans' eye sockets widened and were once again absolutely glued to her. "Don't give me that surprised look. I _know_ you know. Flowey… the flower… _told_ me.”

 

Sans refused to acknowledge or deny that fact. _Of course_ he knew. The kid kept talking.

 

“Well, anyway… Sometimes at night I try to sleep and it's like there's this voice inside me telling me that I should go meet the king. That it will be alright. It's not... the _bad_ voice. I’m not sure it’s my own voice, either. And I know you don't want me to...  


"But if I can, I'd really like to help set all of you free."

 

He cut her line of thought then and there. "kid. i know i've told you asgore's a great guy, but... _he'll kill you_. that's how the entire process works. six humans are already dead. you are supposed to be the seventh. do you understand that?"

 

And suddenly Frisk looked… _very_ _serious_. She wasn’t smiling at all anymore. And Sans really hated the way she looked at him, _the knowing look_. "I am aware. Flowey told me. He also told me that... you helped."

 

His breath caught in his throat and he was not sure if he would ever be able to breathe again. Every bone in his body felt like lead.

 

"Do you? I don't care about the king doing it, if it has to be done. But... 

 

"I _am_ afraid... if it will be you."

 

"d'you even have any idea of _what you are_ _saying_ , kid?" Sans asked. His voice came out rough, and he hadn’t meant to sound as threatening as he had, but he felt _so angry_ suddenly and _so afraid_.

 

Frisk wrapped her arms across herself and shivered slightly. _Sans knew it wasn’t from the cold_.

 

The kid took a deep breath. “We meet at the Judgment Hall. Over and over, in my nightmares. That’s not the only place we meet or the only things we do, but that room is the most prominent. And I _know now_ , that they aren’t _my_ memories… But I’ve still often wondered why I so often met you there. Why you were waiting. Then Flowey told me you were the executioner, and I—”

 

He found that he was unable to look at her as she kept going.

 

“I’m sorry. I feel like I should just ask you. Flowey has said a lot of _awful_ things. I just… I don’t care what you’ve done. I… _really like you_. I know that sounds stupid and it probably is, but I can’t stop myself. It’s how I feel.  
  
“And I guess I’m just saying that if you’re the one who’s going to take my soul in the end, you should really tell me. Because it would suck for us to end like _that_ , _again_ , if there is something I can do this time to prevent it. That, plus I really hate having to learn all of this from _Flowey_.”  
  
Sans didn’t know what to say about that. _He had no clue_ who this goddamn Flowey was, or how the flower knew so much about him. _No one else_ , not even Papyrus, knew the role he had played for the King after he’d refused to be the next Royal Scientist.

 

His hands felt filthy with blood that had disappeared many timelines ago. He hadn’t been joking when he’d once told Frisk that King Asgore was a real pushover. He hadn’t been able to slay any more humans past the second child. That Sans could do it, and continue with his own research on human Determination on his own as he did so was—

 

 _Rather fortunate_ , he’d told himself. Told himself _so many, many times_.

 

He felt coated in a thick layer of blood and he felt briefly and irrationally afraid that Frisk could see it.

 

“i quit that part of the job a long time ago,” Sans heard himself tell the kid, and he was _so glad_ he had met Toriel through the door, because if it weren’t for his promise to her _he wouldn’t have quit_ until Frisk’s soul was in his hands, _she was the very last soul they needed_. “what i did to you, in those timelines… that was due to, uh, _personal initiative_. not at all work-related.”

 

He was excruciatingly aware of how Frisk was studying him, her posture rigid, body language sending all sorts of mixed signals into his brain. Her eyes never left him and she seemed stiff, and afraid, and _determined_ and _bold_ …

 

_But not even slightly judgmental..._

 

“I’d like to hear you share more about that,” she told him. There was a certain quality to her voice that made her sound entirely soothing.

 

Sans just looked at her. Couldn’t get a single word out.  
  
“I’d like to hear you share more about _you_ , specifically,” Frisk elaborated. “Things about you from _you_ and not from a flower. I’ve been starting to realize that I hardly know anything about you.”

 

She had, once again, left him completely dumbstruck. _Who was this child?_

“is… is this why you wanted us to leave so early, kid? so we’d have time to talk?”

 

Frisk gave him a shy smile. “Mostly I was just really impatient to see Hotland.”

 

Sans let out a small snort. She was so easy to be around, so calming and reassuring when she smiled at him like that. “you overly excitable child,” he muttered. “fine. i’ll tell you my story if afterwards you pinky-swear to tell me _yours_.”

 

Her eyes went wide as she enthusiastically nodded, shifting her position as she got more comfortable. Sans was keenly aware of how much she looked like a child ready for story time and he, for one, was feeling very unsure of _what he should say_.

 

He made a mental note to write on his lab notebook later about this _damn gossiping flower_. How much did it know?

 

_How much had it shared?_

 

He had the distinctly unnerving feeling that he was getting reacquainted with an old enemy. For the first time in a long time, Sans wondered if there were still any timelines that _he did not remember_.

 

“alright, kiddo, listen up,” Sans said, mustering what little courage he felt that he had. “this all happened a very long time ago, so hopefully you won’t hate me _too much_.”

 

He was keenly aware of the fact that he had Frisk’s complete attention. And despite his sins crawling on his back, he found that she was _still_ looking at him as though he was the moon, and Sans—

 

He let his gaze drop temporarily to her _inviting lips_ , and swallowed—

 

Sans felt sure that he would end up doing _yet another thing_ _that he could never forgive himself for._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy. Here we go!


	9. Chapter 9

His pasts weren't anything he liked to think about.  
  
They were all _erased_ , anyway, with each and every _RESET_.   
  
_Over_  
  
_and over_  
  
_and  o v e r  again._  
  
There was no reason for Sans to feel guilt over them. There was no reason for Sans to feel _anything_. Nothing mattered, in the end, and _at first_ … that thought had nearly driven Sans mad… but _now_ …  
  
_Now_ , Sans _welcomed_ it. _Really_.  
  
He didn’t _care_ if the world _RESET_.  
  
That being said—guilt or not, RESETs or not—Sans _really_ didn't appreciate being forced to tell the kid about _all of his shit_.

 

So he was brief. He _edited_. And he hated that goddamn flower as he quietly seethed.  
  
There were some things the kid just _didn’t have to know_.

 

"my name is sans," he stated with a dumb grin, starting with the most obvious and basic fact in an effort to ease the tension. "sans the skeleton.

 

"i used to be a physicist, a long time ago," he told the kid, and he could tell by the look of surprise on Frisk's face that at least _that_ much, she hadn't known. 

 

And Sans almost laughed, because the flower had gotten out of its way to tell Frisk Sans was a murderer, yet the thing had simultaneously been _kind enough_ to neglect mentioning that Sans was _also a nerd_.  
  
How “nice” of it.  
  
He noticed with some surprise that Frisk looked... _impressed_ by that bit of information, though.  
  
Sans found that he _liked_ that look on her face.  
  
"i was a good one, too," Sans bragged.  Suddenly, he felt like bragging. And he could tell that he was being irrational, but Frisk was _so rarely_ impressed by him anymore even though _she really, really should be_. "i was actually asked to be the next royal scientist, but the circumstances had been... less than desirable"—he remembered Gaster and their experiments on _that stupid machine_ , Gaster's disappearance from time and space _and every timeline_ , _the things he’d seen_ , things the kid didn't _have_ to know, so he _neglected_ _mentioning_ and continued—"so instead, i quit.

 

"i quit for many reasons. i won’t go over those reasons now.  
  
“but, by the time i quit, things had pretty much fallen into chaos, back then—the royal children had both died—and gaster and i...

 

" _the then royal scientist_ and i...

 

"we had started to notice all these little hiccups in the timespace continuum. timelines jumping. we’d thought we could use the jumps to our advantage. breaking the barrier without human souls had always been our main goal, back then. but it, uh, _didn't work_." Sans sighed. The kid didn't have to know the full details. He took a swig of syrup, but it tasted bitter. Everything tasted _so bitter_ lately.  
  
He looked at her. Thirteen.  
  
Why was he even bothering to wait. What difference would fourteen or fifteen or even sixteen make, _if he ever managed to wait that long_. He could wait _ten years_ to take this kid and she'd _still_ be only...  
  
_Twenty-fucking-three._

 

Still a kid. _Still a child._ A child who was older and more capable of knowing what she was getting into, but still.  
  
Just a _naïve little child_ like she currently was.

 

And in the end, _everything was going to RESET._

 

So _why was he even bothering to try and do the decent thing_.

 

"so i quit, but it was too late. the research we had discovered was already stuck in my skull. i am a curious skeleton, so after a while i started to continue the research on my own. that's when i started to become aware of the RESETs. i found them all over our data. and after a while, i didn't _need_ the data. i could _feel it_. and then, i started actually _remembering_ previous timelines.”  
  
Suddenly he felt like throwing up at a rather nasty recollection. He suppressed it and kept going. _None of it mattered._  
  
"you can't even begin to understand how this all feels. being consciously aware of the RESETs...it's… _maddening_. i almost _went mad_ after finding out. _perhaps i did_ ," he added bitterly.

 

He finished the bottle of syrup. It still tasted bitter, but it was better than nothing. Sans smiled when Frisk dug into her backpack as soon as he was done, passed him a second bottle. The kid was really something else.  
  
He wanted her _so, so badly_.  
  
Sans let his fingers touch hers for just a short second as he took the syrup bottle from her extended hand.  
  
"thanks, kid. you really are the best."   
  
Another shy smile gracing her lips. Another lewd thought of feeling those same lips around his cock, of wanting to see _Frisk_ _on her_ _knees_ , _sucking him_.

 

Another wave of _self-disgust_ and _guilt_.  
  
He shook the thought away.  
  
"so anyway, as i had said earlier the royal children were dead. now, this might come as a surprise to you, but one of them was actually human. the king and queen adopted the very first human child that fell down here, isn't that hilarious? that was part of the reason why it was so important for us to figure out another way to break the barrier without using human souls. welp, after the two royal children died there was no need for that anymore. the king vowed to free us by taking the seven human souls we needed, no more mercy for the next fallen humans. he took _two human souls_ and i'm still surprised by how quickly those kids fell down. is mt ebbott a popular hiking place now or something? you'll have to tell me all about it sometime," Sans joked, but Frisk wasn't smiling anymore.  
  
He looked down at the syrup bottle, focusing his eye sockets away from _her_.

 

"so king asgore only took two of the souls. i took the other four. i didn’t have to, but he... _the king_... i wasn't joking before when i said he was a big fuzzy pushover. he wasn't taking the role of being a murderer very well. the queen had left him, too, and he was _so depressed_. i... i felt pretty bad for him. _and i..._

 

"i have to admit, kid, the world by then was just RESETting left and right. i could feel it _constantly_. it made me feel like nothing i did truly mattered, and i had _so much rage in me_ because of it. and i... i wasn't exactly opposed to the idea _of taking it out_ _on some kids_."

 

Frisk shivered, and it certainly wasn’t because of the cold. Sans already regretted telling her as much as he had.

 

He took a deep breath and continued.

 

"so i took four," he repeated, and he left out the feel of their blood on his hands, the way he still remembered the _sickeningly loud_ **_CRUNCH_** _of their bodies_ as he slammed them _against the wall, against the ceiling, against the ground_ …

He left out how much he’d _thrown up_ immediately after he took the first soul and _had_ _cried_ , _cried for days_ , hadn't even been able to look at Papyrus in the eye sockets afterwards, Papyrus _who suspected nothing_. He left out the _despair_ _he'd felt_ when, days later, _the world RESET_ —

 

—his first conscious memory of a previous timeline had happened when he looked at _that damn first child_ for the second time and remembered how _he’d already killed them before_ —

 

—and _he had to kill the same human child all over and over again_ , _dozens of times_ , sometimes the world RESETting _just for that single slaughter_ as if whatever was causing the RESETs _was taunting him_. 

 

He left out how each consecutive kill had become easier, how he had begun to just _give in and enjoy it_ in the end, how he had _intentionally prolonged_ the last death of the fourth human child,

 

_how each of the attacks he'd used on Frisk and the not-so-Frisk at the Judgment Hall he'd invented and expanded upon in that same golden hall so many timelines ago._  
  
Sans left out _many things_.

 

It was _bad enough_ that she knew that _he had taken four souls_. 

 

Frisk _didn't have to know_ he had grown to enjoy it. She _didn’t have to know_ how often he wondered what was wrong with him. She _didn’t have to know_ how uncertain he’d grown of himself, over time.  How he’d grown unsure of whether the constant RESETs were the cause his detachment and his sadistic cruelty, _or had he had this darkness deep within himself this entire time_?

  
They had fallen into a tense silence that Sans broke.

"i suppose you were meant to be my fifth and last," Sans told Frisk, and he took in the softness of her skin, the alluring brightness of her eyes, the lovely way her hair framed her face and _everything_ that made her look _so beautiful_. He felt his warm affection for her seep into his every bone. "i"m, uh, glad you aren't."

 

She spoke so quietly he almost missed it. "It must have been awful," and that wonderful voice that left him _weak_.

She—this kid—still had more MERCY in her pinky finger _than Sans could ever believe_.  
  
“I wish there was something I could do,” she added, and she sounded _so sad for him_ and _so hopeless_ that he just—  
  
“’s not your problem, kid,” he told her, and he actually had to suppress a bitter laugh, because this kid was _so naïve_ —  
  
_So innocent_. _So kind_.  
  
And he bitterly felt like there was nothing he could do to ever deserve her.

Sans had _so much blood_ _and so much figurative slime_ on him and _she was so pure_ that he might ruin her _by_ _touch_ , figuratively and  
  
l i t e r a l l y .

 

And he _so badly wanted to._

 

He had been _so close to before_ , in this timeline.

 

Had _already done so before_ , in that other timeline.  
  
And all it would take was a few more hours alone with her in his room, just a little more boldness from him while he had her on his bed. A little bit more blue magic, more soft blue lines caressing her bare skin. She had been _so aroused_ _for him_ before, on his bed that one morning. Had been _so ready and eager for him_ even if she didn’t know it, and all he’d really have had to do was to just—  
  
Take the lead—  
  
Move his magic _lower and lower_ and _pleasure her_ and _tease her_ until she _just couldn’t say no—_  
  
And if _her goddamn phone_ hadn’t rung, he could have _had_ her _._ If it hadn’t been for _goddamn_ Monsterkid, _he could have fucked her_. But now here they were again— _and they were alone once more_ —  
  
And all Sans had to do was just—  
  
“It _is_ my problem. You’re my best friend.” The kid’s voice snapped some sense into him.

_This child should really not be alone with him._

 

Sans took a slow steadying breath and checked the clock on his phone. It was almost a quarter until eleven.  
  
"you wanna go on a bit of a walk, kid?"  
  
Despite the kid’s previous enthusiasm to the idea of exploring Hotland, she seemed unconvinced by his offer.

 

Sans forced out a grin. "you’re gonna make me late if we don’t get a move on. here, let me help you pack up." And he snapped his fingers so with a flash of blue magic everything was packed.  
  
Frisk jumped up from the shock and yelped before pouting slightly. “You need to warn me before you do that!”  
  
Sans chuckled and winked at her. "you have _no idea_ how _impressive_ that actually is," he said cockily, a smug grin firmly in place.

 

" _Show off_ ," she said accusingly, sticking her tongue out at him for the second time that morning. Sans’ breath caught in his throat. 

 

He wanted _so badly_ to taste that lovely pink tongue with his own.

 

"um," he said dumbly as she stood up and stretched before slinging her backpack across her shoulder.

 

She raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. "What? Did you forget how to _walk_ to the elevator?"

 

Sans snorted. "you underestimate me, kid. allow me to escort you." And then he shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets—he wouldn't touch her, he _couldn’t touch her_ —and he extended his arm jokingly in a gentlemanly fashion.

 

_Sweet Asgore, she took it_ —a cute blush painting her cheeks as she did so.

 

Her soft arm felt _so lovely_ wrapped around his, even through the thick layer of his coat.

 

He was _guiltily aware_ of how oblivious the kid was to what her touch did to him.

 

"this way, kiddo," he told her as he winked and nodded his head towards the path he knew led to the elevator.

 

She never let go of his arm. She never stopped staring with wonder at the Core and the lava.

 

He _briefly and selfishly_ _wondered_ what she would be willing to do for him in order for Sans to take her there.

 

He was _such a revolting monster_.

 

"This is so awesome," Frisk spoke after a few minutes, pulling Sans away from the bile that was his thoughts. "Thank you for bringing me here."

 

"'snow problem, kid," he told her.

 

The kid laughed. "This is hardly the weather for that sort of pun."

 

He squeezed the arm around hers a little tighter. " _tibia_ honest, i wasn’t sure  _weather_ the temperature was right for a snow joke either."

 

"Sans!" Frisk laughed again. "Stop! You're such a goofball."

 

"i thought i was a skeleton," he winked at her. 

 

They reached the elevator and she gasped with excitement, causing Sans' grin to widen. The kid was so easy to please. 

 

She started pulling at his arm. "Let's go in! What floor are we taking? Oh my gosh, oh my gosh— I haven't used an elevator in _years_!"

 

" _slow down_ , kiddo," Sans snorted. "d'you want to press the up button?"

 

Frisk let go of his arm and practically ran towards the elevator to push the button, causing Sans to laugh again.

 

He was _definitely_ bringing her here again.

 

He was _definitely_ going to _reward her enthusiasm tonight_.

 

_He couldn't wait to hear her moaning his name again and touch her skin with his hands and his magic._

 

The elevator doors opened.

 

"second floor, please," Sans instructed, chuckling inwardly as the kid again scrambled to push the button.

 

"you are surprisingly _eager_ today," Sans teased, and he hated the way he couldn't control he lascivious tint in his voice, but Frisk seemed oblivious.

 

She was _so innocent_.

 

Sans felt the destructive want to take that innocence away from her, to have _her pinned under him_ , _screaming his name_ as he took her—

 

He could _have her begging for his cock_ if he only got a bit bolder—

 

The elevator whirred to life.

 

_He so badly wanted to just fuck this kid._

 

Sans moved just a little further away from Frisk.

 

_She really shouldn't be there alone with him._

 

"Wow," Frisk said, completely oblivious, smiling wide from ear to ear when the elevator stopped. "That was much more fun than I remembered."

 

The doors opened.

 

There was still no other monsters in sight.

 

Sans kept his hands _deep inside his pockets_ as he grinned at her and winked. "did it lift your spirits?"

 

Frisk rolled her eyes. She was visibly trying not to smile. "Just take me to your hot dog stand, Comic Sans." 

 

He laughed at that. "my stand is right around the corner here. looks like we're just in time, too," he said, not even bothering to check the time.

 

Frisk _did_ check the time. "It's five past eleven."

 

"like i said. right on time," Sans winked.

 

They made it to his stand and Sans heard with some satisfaction how Frisk started laughing next to him when she saw the snow on the roof.

 

"How did you _do_ that?" she asked, incredulous. Sans gave her a smug grin.

 

"i have no idea what you're talking about," he winked.

 

He loved her laugh.

 

There weren't many customers around yet, but there were enough. He and the kid weren't completely alone anymore, and Sans let out a sigh of relief.

 

The kid was safe. Safe _from him._ Safe _for now_.

 

He still felt like _he badly needed_ to be kept away from her.

 

"hey, kid. things don't get real busy until noon. you wanna keep going and explore a bit?"

 

Frisk looked at him, wide eyed and curious. "I thought you told me it wasn't safe?"

 

"it isn't, if you stray too far. but no one is actively looking for you and the two guards i mentioned don't really wander too far away from the core unless they need to. i think you'd be safe until a little bit after the first puzzle. how about you try that one for a while and then come back here?"

 

"Okay!" Frisk gave him an excited grin. Sans almost laughed. The kid really did like puzzles, like Papyrus had claimed.

 

"now, no cheating, kid," he told her in a joking manner. "don't call my brother for help at the first sign of trouble."

 

The kid rolled her eyes but grinned. "I won't.”

 

He quickly added a, "but, kiddo—you _should_ contact me, at the first sign of trouble, y’ know?”

 

She gave him another warm smile as she waved goodbye at him. "Will do, Comic Sans." 

 

And just like that, she was gone. And just like that, it was like a pile of lead had been shoved down his throat and settled deep inside his chest.

 

Sans was so anxious, he so often worried—for her.

 

He wondered if this was Toriel's influence rubbing off on him.

 

He sold his first hot dog and joked around with the customer but it was like he was on autopilot. His mind and his magic were focused on Frisk.

 

He knew when she made it to the puzzle even before his phone beeped.

 

He checked it and laughed. Frisk had sent him a picture of herself, standing next to the puzzle with a goofy smile. The caption read "What a puzzling turn of events!" but the subtext clearly read

 

_I'm safe and I'm here._

 

And Sans was so thankful that she’d thought of him.

 

He saved the picture. 

 

Work went by really slowly that day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Sans snapped. Trigger warning here for bullshite!justifications for noncon and general awfulness. (Also plz be aware that SANS SNAPPED and this is fiction and... oh jeez. This was really draining to write.)
> 
> Also, the second half of this is completely unedited. I thought it would be justifiable to leave it as-is, for now, since it's in Sans' POV and so unintentional spelling errors and such would actually be... lovely... But I'm probably going to back at some point and do at *least* some slight editing, because I am a nerd, just a hopeless nerd.

They texted back and forth throughout his entire shift. He found that her texts were the only thing that soothed his anxiety, though  _he wouldn’t be so anxious if she weren’t out of sight._  
  
It was mostly inane banter between them. Every so often, she would send a picture of herself doing something silly. (He’d save those pictures.)  
  
Less often, she would text him something that would have made his heart skip a beat, had he had one.

 

_(Frisk – This would be more fun if you were here._ )

And he would mostly reply with bad jokes and silly puns, but every so often he’d  _cave in, too,_  and write something like—

_i miss having you with me kiddo – Sans_  
  


And he knew he was being mostly appropriate, but he also knew that something about those texts was  _just a little bit wrong_.  
  
Just a little bit wrong but enough that he was  _sure_   _he was making her heart flutter._

 

And Sans  _knew_  what he was doing. He  _knew_  how much she liked him.

 

He didn’t stop writing the texts, every so often, ever so carefully crafted.

 

And he  _hated himself_ , but he  _didn’t stop_.

 

He wanted her  _willing_  and  _eager_  and _in his bed tonight_.

 

 

 

Then he noticed, about half an hour before his three-hour shift ended, that the kid had completed the puzzle and carried on. And he got  _so anxious_  and  _pissed_. He had no clue if she’d be safe beyond that puzzle.

 

And shit, he'd  _told_  her to come back afterwards.

 

He'd  _told_  her.

 

Frisk  _knew_  about the guards patrolling the area and he _couldn't_   _fucking_   _believe_   _this kid_. This was Frisk climbing that tree behind his back and subsequently breaking her neck  _all over again_. This kid _must really have a death wish_ , must really want Sans to be  _constantly on edge_.

 

He lasted twenty minutes of feeling her presence move further and further away from him. Finally it was ten minutes until his shift was over and that was close enough. Not a lot of customers came at this time of day anyway.

 

He took a “shortcut” and went  _straight to her_.

 

And he was  _seething_ , he was  _so livid_ , when he found the kid by the computerized safe that Sans himself had set up there as a prank long ago.

 

He was about to angrily say something when his focus shifted from her body to her face and he noticed the strange expression she was wearing.

 

The kid looked...  **determined**.  
  
Something about whatever it was she was doing  _felt off_.

 

"did i forget to mention there are guards out here hunting for humans?" Sans asked casually, effectively startling the kid. He had been standing just a foot away from her.

 

"Sans!! Uh— I—  _Sorry!_ " she mumbled nervously, her gaze dropping to the ground as she wrapped her hands around her chest.

 

Sans took a deep breath. He couldn't blame the kid for being curious, no matter how much easier it would be to just be mad at her.  
  
After all, _he was starting to grow curious too._

 

He waved off her apology. "just try to listen to me better next time, kid. so… what exactly were you doing here?"

 

She looked confused for a moment before answering, half-laughing. "Um— I'm, uh,  _not sure_? I saw the mouse and I..." An odd expression. Her laughter disappeared. Sans noticed it, engraved it into his mind.

 

He'd have to write about this in his lab notebook,  _as soon as he was away from the kid_.

 

_The word A_ _ n _ _o_ _ m _ _a_ _ L _ _ y _ _buzzed briefly in his skull._

“I don’t know,” Frisk repeated, voice softer this time, all trace of her silly laughter gone.

 

Sans didn’t push it. "you ready to go home, kid?"

 

The kid looked reluctant. She obviously didn’t want to leave. "Can I come back here again with you sometime?"  
  
Sans hesitated. He shouldn’t  _ever_  be alone with this kid.  
  
But nothing had happened this time, r i g h t ?

  
“whatever you want, kiddo,” he told her as he took her hand and pulled her towards him, wrapping his other arm around her waist.

 

They took a “shortcut”.

 

 

 

Papyrus had already returned from Undyne’s house by the time they came back and had started making even more pasta. Sans had never been more  _irked_  to see his brother, having transported himself and Frisk straight to the couch, the kid conveniently on his lap, one of his hands on her thigh and the other one pulling her close to him by her navel.

  


As soon as Papyrus entered the room, the kid jumped off of him.

 

“HUMAN! YOU’VE COME BACK!! AND JUST IN TIME TO TRY MY NEW PASTA DISH! YOU KNOW, I WAS CONCERNED BY HOW QUICKLY YOU DISAPPEARED EARLIER. AND NOW YOU’RE BACK AND I DIDN’T EVEN HEAR THE DOOR OPEN! HOW DID YOU MANAGE THAT?”

 

“we just ran really fast, pap,” Sans said, winking at Frisk. She looked thoroughly embarrassed. Sans’ grin widened.

 

“Um— Sorry we left without saying goodbye, Papyrus,” Frisk mumbled shyly.

  
“NO REASON TO APOLOGIZE. I ASSUMED YOU DIDN’T WANT TO DISTRACT ME FROM MY IMPORTANT MEETING WITH UNDYNE,” Papyrus said so cheerfully that Sans felt a twinge of guilt. His brother was a much better and more forgiving person than  _he_  was.

 

"DID YOU HAVE A DECENT TIME AT HOTLAND WITH MY BROTHER, HUMAN? I AM STILL SORRY I COULD NOT GO."

 

Sans chuckled as the kid's eyes widened, her face lighting up with excitement. "Oh my gosh! It was awesome! I did a new puzzle. Wanna see the pictures?"

 

"WOWIE!! A NEW PUZZLE! YES, I LOVE LOOKING AT NEW PUZZLES!!!!"

 

And just like that, he lost both of them to their nerdy enthusiasm, but that was just as well.

 

Sans had  i m p o r t a n t   t h i n g s   t o   d o.

 

"you two  _ketchup_. speaking of ketchup, i'm going to grillby's," he said and walked into a “shortcut” through the front door.

 

In a flash, he went to Hotland again.

 

Specifically, he went to the place he and Frisk had just left. The place with the mouse and the computerized safe where he kid had looked so... Determined.

 

There appeared to be nothing unusual about this place but he still sketched it into his lab notebook. He sketched it down to the last detail, then painstakingly described the way the kid had looked, the things she'd said, how he had felt.

 

He felt somewhat guilty that he was still studying the Anomaly behind her back.

 

Sans could, he supposed, just ask her.  _But what if she lied?_  

 

Sans was, by nature, distrusting. He was secretive.

 

After what happened to Gaster, he didn't really want to work with others again.

 

There was nobody around. Sans allowed himself to get lost in thought and carefully consider the possibilities. What could the kid have been doing here that required  _so much determination_?

 

Was she aware of it and consciously doing it, whatever it was, or—?

 

A voice interrupted his thoughts, causing Sans to jump up, startled, before his eye flashed a bright blue. "If you  _killed her off again_ , you could see where she RESETs."

 

The unexpected voice was coming from everywhere and nowhere. It sounded cruel yet artificially friendly, and it sent shivers of an old  _hate_  down San’s spine. He looked around but saw nobody. That voice—

That was the _same_   _voice_  he had heard talking to Frisk.

 

"Ha. You think I'd be stupid enough to let you  _see_  me? I don't, as a general rule, approach  _mass murderers_. I'm making an exception for you,  _trashbag_ , so listen up.”  
  
Sans clenched his fists and looked around. There were no signs of life that he could see.

 

The voice continued. "You were wondering if she was SAVING here, weren't you? I've seen that expression on your  _stupid face_  before. You were going to kill heragain anyway,  _you coward_ , so you might as well remember now to make note of where she RESETs."

 

"and why should i listen to  _you_?" Sans snarled,  _pissed_. Flares of his barely repressed blue magic crackled around him. He didn't like this voice—this  _goddamn flower_ —whatever it was. Once again he felt like there were holes in his memory, like there were timelines he had forgotten even as his hate for Flowey remained. 

  


He felt like the flower remembered him.

 

Flowey laughed. "Why  _should_  you? Ha!! You're  _going_  to! You can't help it, can you? You've always been such selfish trash. You'll stop at  _nothing_  to figure out a way to stop the RESETs, won't you? And tell me...

 

"Isn't it  _weird_  how the timelines now only RESET when  _she_  dies?"—the voice laughed—"It's almost as if the RESETs are  _all her fault_!"

 

Sans froze. He would be lying if he claimed that it was a possibility he hadn’t considered.  


"what are you getting out of all of this?"

 

The voice laughed again. "I just want to make the GAME more interesting!

 

"Besides, I've seen the  _dumb way_  she looks at you. The _adoration_  in that idiot's eyes. I'd like to see how far  _you_ can go before  _she_   _hates you_. Don't you?"

 

Sans’ breath caught in his throat. He felt his sins crawling on his back.

 

"You're going to do it anyway,  _you sick pile of trash_. Do me a favor and  _don't_   _blame me_  when you do."

 

He heard the loud clang of armored footsteps in the distance and knew at once that the flower had gone. Two royal guards approached him. 

 

"Dude, like... is that Sans?"

 

"It totally is, dude! Yo! Sans!"

 

Sans fixed a grin on his face and he waved even as his mind was racing a hundred thoughts a minute. Frisk had been here. Frisk had SAVED?  _Only one way to find out—_ But that's exactly what the flower wanted—

 

"hey guys,” he heard himself say. He hoped is voice didn’t really sound as artificially cheerful as it felt to him. “found any humans lately?"

 

If the human could force the RESETs and SAVE points, and he had access to the human—  _perhaps he could force a stop to the RESETs._

 

"No, dude, like... There's none here," he heard the first guard say.

 

"Can you talk Undyne into giving us a break like you did last time?" said the second one.

 

Sans forced out a laugh even as he wished the guards just _left him alone_. "i think that kind of influence only works once on her."

 

He remembered his promise to Toriel. Sans had promised to protect the human. He'd already broken that promise more than once though, hadn't he?

 

"Aw man."

 

"Sucks."

 

"believe me, i feel ya," Sans said with his fake grin. "welp, i better get back to snowdin before papyrus burns down the town with one of his puzzles, you know?"

 

The guards laughed. "Yeah, man. Totally."

 

"See ya later, dude."

 

Sans slowly walked away. 

 

Sans waited until he was out of sight so he could take a “shortcut”. His mind felt numb.

 

Sans waited a long time even after everyone else left.

 

 

 

He was a mess by the time he finally managed to make himself teleport back to Snowdin. The snow felt cool against his bones and his breath came out in small puffs of smoke.

 

He was a skeleton. The cold or the heat didn't bother him; that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the brisk cool air against his bones.

 

He didn't feel like going back home and he didn't feel like going to Grillby's. Frisk was still home, probably with Papyrus, and Sans didn't think that he could deal with either of them right now. So instead he walked away from Snowdin and into the forest that he often patrolled as a sentry.

 

The forest where he’d met Frisk.

 

According to the flower, the kid had SAVED. And it seemed like, by the looks of it, she could do it— _at least sort of_ —intentionally. But Sans didn't _know_ and Sans wasn't _sure_.

 

The flower could have lied. That seemed very likely. Yet the sheer Determination on the kid’s face…

 

_There was only one way to find out._

 

Sans felt yet again that twisted feeling that she was meant to be killed by his hand more than any other's. It made him feel sick.

 

It made him feel guilty.

 

It made him feel _angry_.

 

Her blood still felt fresh on his hands from all those other timelines.

 

And he still, repulsively, _just wanted to fuck her_ —even as he contemplated the pros and cons of _her death_.

 

He was _sure_ that if he _did_ end up killing her, he'd be unable to do so without taking full advantage of the opportunity. He’d end up stuffing his cock into her again. There was no way he could resist doing it.

 

He couldn't deny that the idea strongly appealed to him. The realization left him feeling dirty.

 

He moved on. He detached himself. If the timeline was about to end by his hand, it wouldn’t matter what he did before it ended. He was the only one who would remember, anyway.

 

_That wasn’t true,_ though. The kid could subconsciously remember timelines; they showed up in her dreams and _she knew this_ , knew this _now_ because of _him_. _She would remember._

 

But _he could make her believe it was a legitimate nightmare._

 

She _hadn’t once mentioned the time he’d forced his dick into her_.

 

And she so _worshipped_ him, so _trusted_ him—

 

He remembered the way her eyes looked at him _as if_ _he were the moon_.

 

And Sans _so, so badly_ wanted _to take advantage of that_.

 

He wanted to feel the kid under him, hands firmly pinned above her head. He wanted to hear her screams of pain or pleasure as he thrust into her. And he _so badly_ wanted to feel her cunt around his cock again— she had been _so warm_ _and tight_ and had felt _absolutely incredible_ —

 

He remembered how addicting it felt to be inside of her. How intensely he still regretted that he _hadn’t just kept going_. And wouldn’t it be sweet, wouldn’t it be _fantastic_ , if he went long enough that he could finish inside her in this timeline—

 

That is, if he _murdered_ _her_.

 

He still hadn’t decided if he was going to kill the kid.

 

He still hadn't gotten her to tell him how or why she even fell from the surface. He still hadn’t given her the chance to tell the truth or lie.

 

So he could mistrust her and fuck her _yes or yes_ and then kill her and gain more information about the RESETs. Or he could trust her and _only maybe fuck her_ like he had been hoping to do and possibly still screw her up, and possibly learn nothing about the RESETs.

 

The fact that Sans had a clear winning scenario didn’t leave him feeling any less _angry_ or _bitter_. He felt like his hand was forced because _of course he would fucking do what he had to_ , _of course_ _he would choose the fucking option that most benefited him_. He was _selfish_ , _weak_ and _horrible_ , and _why wouldn’t he be_?

 

If this timeline was about to be over, nothing mattered. _Nothing he ever fucking did mattered_. Everything was going to be RESET and _so what if he fucked the kid this fucking once before he killed her_ , _so what if he enjoyed himself before she died._

And it wasn’t as if Sans was previously any less of a literal and figurative monster. He had _already fucking killed four other children many many times_ , had _tortured them_ , had _tortured Frisk and the not-so-Frisk_ and he felt _completely unremorseful_.

 

No remorse that he’d taken those four souls. No remorse that he had killed the not-Frisk. No remorse that he’d—

 

_He did hate himself for killing Frisk._

 

_—But it didn’t matter, did_ _ n _ _’t m_ _ a _ _tt_ _ er _ _—_

 

He'd already murdered Frisk more times than he could count. It would be _ridiculous_ for him not to do it again _just this once_ and take _full advantage_. _Fuck_ whatever the flower got out of it. He would do whatever it took to get rid of the RESETs.

 

Frisk couldn't possibly understand how this all felt. Even if she vaguely remembered the timelines. Perhaps the next timeline would be the one where she'd finally remember everything, and she'd _understand_ why Sans was so messed up, _because he was so fucking messed up_.

 

He _so badly_ wanted to end the time loops once and for all and he _so badly_ _wanted to fucking_ —

_Pin Frisk to the ground—_

 

_Force his cock into her—_

 

_Pound_ _the goddamn memories_ into _that fucking kid_ who had _so often_ looked like she remembered him from before, like she was _the only one_ _who could possibly understand him_ , **_yet clearly did not_**.

 

And if he couldn’t deserve the kid, **he would have her this once**.  
  
It was getting darker out now. His mind was made up.

 

His phone trembled slightly on his hand.

 

Had the entire forest always been this blue or was that his magic?

 

He didn’t even know anymore. He didn’t care.

 

He was alone but he wouldn’t be for long.

 

She picked up on the fourth ring. There was laughter still on her voice as she answered.

 

_Her wonderful fucking voice._

“Hi, Sans! We’ve been waiting for you! Papyrus made— _ha ha ha!_ —he made the _best_ ravioli without any filling or anything. It’s— _hah!_ —it’s _really_ good—”

 

Papyrus’ voice was loud in the background as he claimed “I HAVE MADE THE GREATEST RAVIOLI BECAUSE UNDYNE TAUGHT ME TO! I DO NOT KNOW WHY YOU KEEP LAUGHING AT IT AND SPEAKING OF ‘FILLING’ AND ‘SAUCES’, WHATEVER THOSE ARE—”

 

More laughter from Frisk. It felt like a knife stabbing through his chest.

 

He ignored it. _He ignored it_. _It didn’t matter, **didn’t matter**_ —

 

_He was going to be selfish just this fucking once because he wanted to be_ , _and_ **_so what_**?

 

_He didn’t love her deeply enough to be selfless, and **so fucking what**?_

It all got erased. Just blips in the timespace. No one would remember, but him, and _he didn’t care_. “hey, kiddo, that sounds great,” he said over the phone, and he was surprised by how friendly and smooth and _normal_ his voice sounded, even as the phone shook, even as the forest stayed blue. “i don’t think i’m gonna be there to eat it while it’s still warm, could you ask pap to leave some for me in the fridge? something, uh, came up.”

 

“Oh no! What’s up?” she asked him with a hint of worry. “Are you alright? Anything I can do to help?”

 

He had to try _hard_ to control his _laughter_. She was _so good_ , _so innocent_ —

 

_Too wonderful, too perfect, for him—_

 

**_He wanted to see how far he cou l d  g o  b e f  o  r  e   s h e   h   a   t   e   d   h i m ._ **

 

“everything’s fine, kiddo. but d’you think we can meet at your hiding place, after pap falls asleep?”

 

“You mean behind the waterfall?” she whispered, and he could tell by the sound or perhaps by his _twisted fucking connection_ _to her_ that she was walking away from Papyrus and someplace more private. “You mean you won’t be back to read Papyrus his bedtime story?”

 

“it’ll be fine,” he soothed her. “i’ll read him one _next time_ , _heh_.”

 

There was a pause on her end and he irrationally thought that he had _screwed things up with his little joke_. When she did speak, her voice was quiet. There was a hint of concern in it that Sans chose to ignore. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

 

“yeah— _hah_ —i just miss you, is all,” he said, stifling another laugh. “sorry. d’you think you can come quick? pap’s bedtime is usually in like half an hour. if you could maybe hurry after he’s asleep—i just really wanna talk to you.”

 

“Sure,” she said, voice soothing. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

 

“thanks, kid. i’ll be waiting for you,” he said, and then—because he felt like it, because he **felt it** , because it didn’t matter, anyway, once the timeline got erased—he added, “i love you.”

 

He heard her breath catch in her throat as he hung up.

 

And then he transported himself to the cave behind the waterfall and _waited_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. Oh my god. So I wrote this thing and... I don't want to call it smut, but this chapter is pretty much 90% smut. THIS IS NONCON, FRISK CAN'T CONSENT, but it was intentionally written in a very specific way and I guess - Warnings for both noncon (non-consent/rape) AND dubcon (dubious consent) in this chapter. I'm attaching a very brief summary to the end author's notes in case anyone is too squicked to read this trash, so that they don't have to. It was seriously draining to write.

His own voice rang in his ears as he waited for her.  
  
_i love you_  
  
i love you  
  
How _pathetic_. How _untrue_. He _didn't love her._  
  
_Not enough._

  
Sans briefly wondered if he had lost the ability to love anyone enough to be selfless.  
  
_He wondered if maybe he'd always lacked that ability all along._  
  
Sans took a deep breath and tried to focus, his hand idly playing with a flame of blue magic as he waited. There were so many things he ought to ask the kid, before he took her. Why had she climbed Mt Ebott? Once she fell down, did she notice anything strange that would give a reason as to the RESETs? He wanted more details about her influence on the RESETs, about the SAVE points and about _that fucking flower_. Above all, he wanted to thoroughly learn about anything that could explain why and what it was that made her the Anomaly.  
  
Maybe she would even tell the truth, if Sans asked. She was, after all, _so good_ , _so kind_. She wouldn't lie, not to him—not about _this_ —would she?  
  
A sick and nauseating panic in his chest told him that he still had time to change his mind but he thoroughly snuffed it. There would always be time, in plenty of other timelines, to do the right thing. Right now, he _needed_ this.  
  
Right now, _he wanted this_.  
  
And there would be no interruptions this time. No phone calls from _fucking Monsterkid_ or a sudden appearance from his brother. No more— _fucking cockblocking Monsterkid_ —  
  
He had completely forgotten about that brat. Sans checked the time on his phone. He'd _just now remembered fucking Monsterkid_ and he wondered if he had enough time to pay him a visit before the kid got here?  
  
He was probably still at the Core, though. Was he going to stay there for three days? Sans _really_ didn't feel like hunting down the brat, no matter how territorial he still felt. Thoroughly fucking the girl he had tried to steal away from him would probably be satisfaction enough.  
  
There would always be other timelines for him to take care of Monsterkid.  
  
But in this one _, he was going to fuck the living daylights out of Frisk_.  
  
Sans checked the time again. Five minutes until eight. If Frisk was kind enough, which _she was_ , she would probably begin to read Papyrus a bedtime story soon. And it took Pap a little over ten minutes to fall asleep.  
  
Then she'd have to walk all the way over to here and so he had—  
  
Roughly half an hour, give or take. He still had time. He could reconsider, do the right thing,  
  
Or he could _justify himself_ , talk himself further into it, tell himself _he was worthless_ _anyway_ and what he did wouldn't matter when the timeline RESET and so why not enjoy it? Why not _give in_? Why not just _finally_ take the kid _who_ _probably so badly wanted it_?  
  
She had been _so aroused_ by his magic before in this timeline.  
  
She had _kissed him back_ , in that other timeline.  
  
And she told him she loved him and she was _just a kid_ , of _course_ she didn't know what she was talking about. But kids turned into adults eventually and _he_ was an adult, and if she loved him—  
  
_And he needed this_ —  
  
Why not just take her innocence _now_ and _force the adulthood into her_?  
  
She would want this, if she knew what was good for her.  
  
She would _beg him for it_ , and she had no choice. He was going to have her either way.  
  
He was going to have her _screaming and begging for more_ _whether she wanted to or not_.  
  
But about those questions he wanted to ask the Anomaly—  
  
There was so much about the kid's life that Sans didn't know and probably needed to learn about before the kid died. Whether the kid had always been capable of RESETs, even above ground, was one fact he was particularly dying to find out.  
  
_He would be so fucking pissed if that were the case._  
  
And he tried to do the math and was almost sure that the RESETs had been occurring for longer than 13 years, but he couldn't quite make it out for certain. All his pasts _so often_ ended up blurring together into an unnaturally long linear line. Monster brains weren't meant to think of timespace as a multidimensional thing. It was yet another reason why Sans hated thinking about his pasts, all those different timelines. His mind could never quite completely grasp it.

 

_And his hands still felt dirty with human blood and the screams still rang in his ears if he let them._  
  
Sans felt the kid leave his house and he felt _sickened with himself_. __  
  
He really _was_ _trash_ , _was worse than trash_ , for luring her to her death like this. __  
  
Guilt pooled deep within his bones as he realized that the kid was moving fast enough toward him that she was probably running. He forced the guilt away. It _wouldn't_ matter, it _couldn't matter_ , once the timeline RESET. __  
  
She was there within minutes. Sans heard the rustle of the opening pink umbrella she kept hidden by the waterfall and saw her silhouette before he saw her come in. And Sans had thought that he was ready, had thought he had detached himself enough from the _sick affection he felt_ for the Anomaly and the need to protect her _even as he wanted her destroyed and impaled on his cock_. He'd thought he was ready to _manipulate her_ and to _use her_ _and then_ — __  
  
And then she came in, breaths ragged and her face red from the cold and her urgency to get there. Her eyes were wide with concern and with _worry_ and _fear_ as she looked at him and took a moment to catch her breath, holding her umbrella against her neck because her hands were _too full_ because she was carrying  
  
_Not one nor two but_ **three full bottles of ketchup for him**.  
  
And all the questions he had for her died in his throat. __  
  
All the _self-disgust_ and the _guilt_ and the _self-hate_ he had blocked _came rushing back_. __  
  
And he didn't know what he was doing as his resolve fought against his self-hate and his doubt but _he had lost his self-control_ so he _went up_ to her _and **kissed her**_. __  
  
He didn't care in the slightest when he heard the ketchup bottles and the umbrella fall to the ground. And then _she kissed him back_ , her small hands pulling him towards her by the front if his coat, her soft lips feeling _deliriously satisfying_ against the soft flutters of his blue magic that he buzzed against her mouth. __  
  
"i love you," he whispered against her lips in between kisses, and he was only vaguely aware of how he was slowly guiding her backwards _until her back was against the wall_ , was barely conscious of the fact that _his hands were now gripping her wrists_ and _pinning them against the hard rock behind her_. __  
  
He found that _her hands were trembling_. __  
  
Her entire body was trembling slightly even as he kissed her, even as she kissed him back. And he had a _nasty realization_ and wondered if the flower had gone to her _to tell on him_ after it had _riled him up_? __  
  
Would the kid _really_ come running to him even if she knew _what might happen to her in the end_? __  
  
He quelled the questions that buzzed in his brain because  
  
_He couldn't hold back anymore._ This was his only chance.  
  
_No one else was nearby but them._  
  
" _god_ , kid. i’m sorry," he heard himself say and _Frisk froze_. His mouth travelled from her lips to her cheek and then her neck and he conjured up a blue tongue there _so he could lick her smooth skin_ and then _she shivered_. "i am _so, so sorry_. i promise you'll enjoy this, ok?"  
  
Her voice came out pleading and he didn't like it. "Sans— you don't have to— _ah—_ " He silenced her with a wave of blue magic as he let go if her wrists and _shoved his hand under her shirt_ and _up her back_ and _willed_ his magic to feel _so pleasurable to her_ that she couldn't help but let out a loud moan. The sound came out frantic.  
  
_She had probably never felt quite this way before._  
  
"i want to show you how _good i can make you feel_ ," he whispered against her neck, his voice getting _dark_ and _husky_ as he sent _another wave of pleasure down her spine_. She was holding on to him now, her body effectively pinned by his own against the rough cave wall. It wouldn't be long now before he was pinning her to the ground instead.  
  
"you'll like this. i promise," he told her as he licked the side of her neck, forcing Frisk to gasp.  
  
"Sans— _wait_ —" she pleaded, but the words only steadied his resolve.  
  
" _i'm tired_ _of waiting_ ," he told her with frustration as his hands explored the skin of her torso and he started riding her sweater up as well as her shirt underneath. He found that he loved the smooth feel of her skin, _so unlike_ anything he was used to. His mouth travelled up her neck and he gently bit her earlobe before whispering, "you have _no idea_ how long i've wanted to do this to you. it's felt like _years_."  
  
She let out another embarrassed moan as he sent a wave of magic up her torso. Sans grinned wildly. Every sound that left her lips felt like a victory. “i _swear_ this doesn’t mean that i don’t love you, kiddo,” he told her as he started pulling up her shirt and her sweater before giving up and just having the layers of clothing disappear. Frisk’s hands left his coat then and when he saw she was about to cover herself _he pinned her hands against the wall again_. “i do love you _. i really do_. I just—  
  
“ _god_ i am _so selfish_. you have _no idea_ , kid. _i’m sorry_ ,” he repeated, and he didn’t sound sorry at all. He _couldn’t afford_ to feel sorry then, not with his body firmly pressed against Frisk’s and the feel of her breasts against his ribs through the thick layer of his coat. She had gotten taller since he’d first met her, but he still had a few inches on her height.  
  
He and Toriel had often worried together about the possibility that she wasn’t growing very well due to the lack of sun, but her breasts sure looked like she was growing nicely enough.  
  
He moved her arms above her head and pinned them there with one hand so that he could gently knead one of her breasts with the other. Her face was a deep shade of scarlet now, her expression one of _deep mortification and_ —  
  
_Arousal_.  
  
_He had her._  
  
He chuckled darkly against her ear when he noticed she wasn’t struggling anymore and licked her earlobe as he shoved a hand that was _glowing with magic_ down the side of her pants. She moaned when the magic reached her hips. “d’you remember _the first time_ _we fucked, kid_?”  
  
An anxious gasp and she was struggling again. He pressed his body even more firmly against hers and let himself enjoy the sensation, bucking his hips against her slightly. No blue cock yet.  
  
“Um— _No_ — I don’t— Sans, please, _please_ —”  
  
He laughed at that. “you can’t _honestly_ want me to stop. isn’t this what you’ve been wanting? you must at least dream of it. _i know i do_.”  
  
He moved the hand he’d shoved down her pants to the front and almost let out a breath of relief when his fingers found what must be her clit. He hadn’t been entirely sure that humans had those. But _this_ , he knew how to handle.  
  
Frisk gasped again and he could barely distinguish her soft moans and whispers from her sobbing. Why was she making such a big deal about this? It was all going to be RESET anyway.  
  
“just give up and enjoy it,” he told her and he let go of her wrists so he could unbutton the front of her pants. She made a weak attempt to push him away. The attempt was so pathetic that Sans chuckled again. “ _c’mon_ , kid. you know you want this. let me do this for you. i’ve been _dying_ to hear you scream my name.”  
  
“I can’t— _this feels wrong_ ,” she muttered shyly, hands again gripping the front of his coat as she pressed her naked torso and her face against the front of his coat. He shoved his hand down her panties and she gasped at the sudden direct contact when he leaned down to bite her earlobe again and began rubbing lazy circles against her clit. Her hips moved ever so slightly into his hand and he suddenly felt the need to—  
  
_Pin her to the ground._  
  
_Tear off her pants._  
  
_Finally shove his cock into her._  
  
He stopped moving until the feeling passed and instead he focused on talking to her as he idly played with her clit.  
  
“you’re such an innocent child,” he told her, voice slightly condescending even as it was still hoarse with lust. “ _i love you_. there’s nothing to be ashamed of. i just want to show you how much i care, frisk _. just let me do this,_ _i know you’ll love it_.” He shoved a single finger into her and she groaned. He felt a sick satisfaction at how _slick_ and _tight_ she felt around his finger. “you’re already _so wet for me_. that’s a _good thing_ ,” he said, and he pressed another kiss against her neck before continuing.  
  
_“it means you want it_ ,” he murmured into her ear as he slowly pumped his finger into her and kept stroking her clit with his thumb. He _knew the moment she finally gave in_ when her body relaxed and her breathing got heavy.  
  
She was _his to do as he pleased_ and he felt _victorious_ and _afraid_.  
  
There was _so much wrong_ with what he was doing.  
  
He still _wasn’t_ entirely sure she didn’t know that _he would_ _kill her in the end_.  
  
He refused to even consider that and instead enjoyed the sensation of his finger pumping inside of her, the lovely way her moans and whimpers stroked his ego, the feel of her soft warm body pressed against his.  
  
He could really screw this up, now, he thought irrationally.  
  
Then he let out a cynical laugh as he realized how _ridiculous_ that particular worry had been. He had _already_ screwed this up by _shoving his finger up_ _the kid’s cunt_.  
  
“Sans?” her voice was shy and so small.  
  
He kissed the side of her neck. “ _i love you_ ,” he whispered. “on the floor now, i think.”  
  
In a flash he was on top of her, kid on her back and lying on the cold hard floor. She let out a sharp cry and winced, and Sans momentarily regretted not taking her to his bed instead.  
  
_Like he’d done the last time._  
  
Sans didn’t want to risk a repeat of the last time, though. He _wanted this to last_. He _wanted Frisk_ _to enjoy it_.  
  
There was a flash of blue as the magic in his eye came to life and suddenly Frisk shrieked when she felt a foreign shape pushing against her.  
  
And it was _almost like she had_ _remembered_ because she was suddenly frantically trying to move her hips away from his cock and then he felt the strong urge to _just slam it into her_ , _pin her to the floor by the neck_ , _make her beg for air as hard as she pleaded for his cock—_  
  
Sans’ breath caught in his throat and he quickly enveloped her in a wave of blue magic, _forcing the kid still_ by a sudden increase in gravity. “ **don’t** ,” he growled harshly, taking a few deep breaths in an attempt to summon his self-control. “ **don’t fight it**. **_i—_** **_i like that_** _**a bit too much**_ ,” he warned her and it was like she understood the consequences he was implying because suddenly she went _deathly still_.  
  
He rewarded her with a soft kiss on her neck. “the first time we did this, it hurt,” he admitted, and he neglected to mention how he’d forced himself into her, how impatient he’d been. “i— your body’s probably remembering that. we’re going to go slower this time. if it hurts too much, you can tell me and i’ll stop. i can go back to using my hand on you. i— i don’t mind. but **don’t** **struggle**. i won’t be able to stop if you do. i usually like… _being rough_. do you understand that, kid?”  
  
She nodded once but remained silent and whether it was due to shyness or fear Sans didn’t know and couldn’t bring himself to care. Her hands shot up to grab the front of his coat again as soon as his magic let go of her. He tried hard not to feel guilt at how desperately he clung to him even as _he started pushing into her_.  
  
He felt the familiar barrier and maybe he pushed too hard because Frisk let out a sharp cry and he pulled back pretty much immediately. “ _sorry_ ,” he muttered, showering Frisk’s neck in a flutter of small kisses. “are you alright?”  
  
Frisk nodded again, face pressed to his chest and Sans—  
  
Sans felt amazing. He couldn’t deny it. Something about feeling Frisk’s warmth once again around the tip of his cock just made him feel all sorts of incredible. And he wanted to go deeper this time, he wanted to thoroughly enjoy it, but he remembered that first time when Frisk had cried and he had stopped and he—  
  
“kid— _do you want this?_ we don’t have to keep going.”  
  
There was a long quiet pause during which he regretted saying anything. Even if Frisk said no, he wasn’t sure that he could stop. He should have just taken her like he’d originally wanted, _hard and fast and without mercy_ , and they would have been done by now, and she would be dead, and he wouldn’t be having all these second thoughts that were making him feel _like such trash_.  
  
When the kid finally answered, her voice was deathly soft. ”It’s not like it will really matter for long, will it?”  
  
His bones froze as he remained motionless on top of her and he suddenly _felt like throwing up_.  
  
_She knew._  
  
She knew that he was going to kill her.  
  
_She knew_ that he was planning to RESET the timeline.  
  
He almost rolled off of her and showered her with _sorry_ s but _some sick part of him kept him in place_.  
  
He was brutally honest with her, _for once in his life_. “no, i— i guess it won’t.”  
  
There was another moment of silence in which he tried to control his anxiety and his _increasingly erratic breathing_ and he could _swear_ that the front of his coat was getting damp at the spot where Frisk was hiding her face.  
  
And he was _still aroused_ and _he felt worthless and sick_. And he didn’t know how the disgusting words even came out of his mouth, but they did. “if you don’t mind, i— i’d like to keep going. i still want this. i still..”  
  
‘I love you’ felt _cheap_ coming out of him and so he didn’t dare say it.  
  
_Frisk did_ , hands still firmly gripping his coat toward her, and he still didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry or to _just throw up_ at how _cruel_ and _messed up_ the entire situation was. “I still love you, too,” she told him. Her voice sounded strained.  
  
She gave a sharp cry as _Sans_ _quickly and forcefully slammed his length into her_.  
  
“i’m sorry,” he said between thrusts, alternating between _hard and fast_ and _soft and slow_ as he tried to make up his mind as to whether it would be best for him to _hurry it up_ or _help her enjoy it_. He heard the occasional moan escape Frisk’s lips, and in the end he was going rather hard as he simultaneously stroked her clit, and he _could tell she was enjoying it_ but it _no longer felt like a victory_. “i’m sorry,” he repeated a few more times as Frisk clung to him, and she was _pinned under him_ and he _felt_ _so guilty_ but he _couldn’t bring himself to stop_. She felt like a vice around him and it felt _amazing and unbelievably good_ to have her _wrapped around his cock_ once more, he couldn’t have enough of her, even though _he badly wished he could stop_. “ _i love you_ , i really _do love you_ , kid. i just— _fuck_ — _Frisk_!”  
  
He started pumping faster into her as she came, screaming, her walls convulsing around his cock, and he couldn’t help but give into the sensation even as he bitterly noticed how similar the pleasure he felt was _to literally any other time he’d had sex, he could have had anyone else and gotten off the same way_ —  
  
_And instead he chose to ruin her._  
  
He came inside of her with a wave of _guilt_ and _self-disgust_ and he _hoped the timelines kept RESETting forever_ , he hoped he _lived through enough loops that he would forget this one disgusting choice_ , he _wished that the kid hated him_ , that _she left him for good_ —  
  
That she refused to ever see him again because _Sans was truly the worst_ —  
  
When he rolled off of her, the front of his coat was damp. Frisk’s eyes were puffy, slightly glassy and red. Her breath was as uneven as his and her cheeks were flushed, and he had done this enough times that he knew that he had satisfied her but at the same time she looked—  
  
_Empty_.  
  
_Indifferent_.  
  
And just _so, so defeated_ and he felt like _the scum of the Earth_.  
  
He looked at her for a long moment before he found the courage to gently stroke her cheek with a guilty hand.  
  
“i really do love you, you know,” he whispered. _He was_ _so afraid_.  
  
Her gaze was fixed to the rocky ceiling of the cave but she whispered, “Me too.”  
  
Sans breathed out a sigh of relief. “i wish our circumstances were different.”  
  
Frisk barely nodded. “Me too.”  
  
“i’ll see you in the next timeline, kiddo,” he said and he gave her one last chaste kiss on her lovely pink lips. Frisk shut her eyes.  
  
She braced herself.  
  
“i love you,” he breathed out, and he forced himself not to avert his gaze or close his eyes because he couldn’t afford to miss the target.  
  
A sharp bone pierced clean through the kid’s heart.  
  
And Sans was suddenly standing in Hotland and he was _seething_ , he was _so livid_ , when he found the kid by the computerized safe that he himself had set up as a prank long ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uuuuuurgh.
> 
> TL;DR - Sans fucks Frisk. Sans kills Frisk. Frisk already knew that this was going to happen and Flowey is a HUGE tattletale. The timeline got RESET to the SAVE point in Hotland.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter because I feel like spoiling you all with moar horribleness. (Sorry.)

Sans was  _livid_ , he was  _so pissed._ He’d  _told_  the kid to come back to him after she got done with the puzzle, he’d _told_ her there were  _guards_   _nearby looking for humans_  and—  
  
And then something unexpected yet familiar happened.

It was  _painfully uncomfortable_  to have memories from a separate timeline force themselves into his consciousness after every RESET. Sans gritted his teeth and waited, still feeling anger, still feeling worry, still feeling _the_   _lust_  and _the possessiveness_  over Frisk he'd felt that afternoon at Hotland. His own mind felt as if it was being _sawed in two_ so that a different mind could fit.

 

New memories entered his skull in a way that felt _excruciating_ and _unnatural_. New feelings of  guilt,  _so much guilt_ , sadness, hopelessness and _self-disgust_.  _He_   _hated himself._ His chest hurt with an array of guilty emotions.  _He loved Frisk_.  _He'd killed Frisk_.  
  
_He’d snapped and he’d fucked Frisk and he wasn’t entirely sure she had wanted it and now there was nothing that he could do._

 

A major headache that couldn't pass quickly enough. The average brain was  _definitely not_ meant to think of time as anything but linear. That Sans was currently being forced,  _once again_ , to be consciously aware of the blips in the timespace—

 

It was going to  _drive him to the point of insanity_  one of these days if it hadn't already.

 

Sans blinked once, blinked twice, and adjusted himself to the new memories. The kid was still there, still looking Determined, but now she was hurriedly digging her hands into her pockets and Sans paid no mind to it,  _he loved her so much for it_. Every timeline with her was just a little bit different. This kid was  _the only thing in this miserable world_  that was capable of constant change.

 

He remembered how  _they'd kissed_  and how _he'd told her he loved her_  and how  _even in the end_ she’d said  _she still loved him as well._  He felt empty and hollow at the loss of that other timeline. She wouldn't remember any of it, now, and it was like they had _never said_ anything at all.

 

In the end, none of it had mattered. _Not one bit of it_ had  _really fucking matter_ ed.

 

"Frisk?" he said gently, fully aware that these hadn't been the words that were supposed to come out of his mouth. But he had _just killed her_ , he wondered if she felt it, and _he worried she might still feel hurt_.

 

The kid didn't turn around but she trembled slightly and for a moment,  _Sans thought she remembered_   _the past timeline._

 

And he was  _weak_  as he closed the distance between them and  _kissed her again._ He was  _weaker still_ when she didn't fight him and  _his eye flashed blue_  and  _he shoved his blue tongue down her throat_ ,  _forcing his hand under her pants_   _so he could feel her again_. Her fingers started roaming the sides of his coat as  _he shoved his finger inside her_  again and brushed his thumb against her clit,  _just like she had seemed to like it—_

 

And he was  _weak_ , and he was  _still horny_  from earlier in this current timeline, and he was horrible,  _he was the worst_ , he was complete  _poison and trash_ and he was about to start again with the  _i love yous_ , and  _i'm sorrys_ , and  _just let me_...

 

And then the kid stopped moving her hands around his pockets and  _bit his tongue_ ,  _hard_ , and he was so surprised by her unexpected aggression that he  _gasped_   _and_   _pushed her away—_

 

Her eyes were  _murderous_.  _This was not Frisk_.

 

Sans felt  _immediately sick_.

 

And then he killed her with a round of sharp bones and hoped that the next timeline could erase the memory of  _that dirty brother killer’s_ taste in his mouth.

 

 

 

He was in Hotland again,  _again pissed_ ,  _again angry_ , and the memories came crashing back. He gritted his teeth. It was _no less painful_ and _no less uncomfortable_ than the first _thousands_ of times.

 

This time, the kid darted away from him pretty much immediately. Sans followed, running after her, and he was desperately trying to figure out whether this was Frisk running away because she was afraid of him, or if this was  _the not-Frisk_  running because she wanted  _something worse_.

 

A sharp rock on the ground. The kid found it and took it.

 

_Not-Frisk._

 

He killed her again.  
  
The timeline RESET.

 

 

 

The memories came rushing back now with a wave of pain so bad it induced nausea. 

 

Sans threw up. The kid  _laughed_.

 

_Not-Frisk._

 

She died again.

 

 

 

He had her pinned to the ground, now. Hands forced behind her back as Sans pushed the kid's face into the hot ground. Something about this felt very satisfying in a way that would have been sexual if this were _the real Frisk pinned under him_ , _taking his cock_.

 

He _irrationally wished_ that this was _Frisk_.

 

"will you  **stop**  coming back?" he told the not-Frisk.

 

The kid blew him a childish raspberry that sounded  _eerily disturbing_  coming from  _a murderer like her_.

 

He grimaced with disgust. "stop that."

 

"What? Am I being  _too immature_ , Sans?”—she laughed, and her voice was raspy, _so unlike Frisk’s_ —“What, do you want to fuck _me_ ,  _too_?"

 

He killed her with a wave of Gaster Blasters.

 

 

 

He was getting tired,  _bone tired_ , of the constant waves of memories rushing into him and of the constant RESETs.

 

Sans selfishly wondered if it wouldn't be better to just let the not-Frisk do what she wanted so he could rest as he waited for her at the Judgment Hall.

 

He was  _so lazy_ , after all, and in the end it wouldn't matter, so—

 

He remembered Papyrus, how his dust had spread on the ground.

 

_There was no way that he would let this fucking kid touch his brother._

 

He killed her again as soon as she lunged at him.

 

 

 

Then he just started killing her on sight, like he'd done all those timelines ago. It had been  _such a long time_  since he'd felt the RESETs happening back-to-back. He threw up more than once. He lost track of time and of the timelines.

 

He must have killed her  _at least fifty times_.

 

Fifty-one might be the charm. But, to be safe, he made that fifty-two.

 

 

 

Her hands shot up and she wrapped her arms around herself as Sans  _still felt angry_ ,  _still felt pissed_ , mad that she had walked past the puzzle instead of going back to him and the feelings  _seemed ridiculous_ , now, to him. It felt like she had disobeyed him  _lifetimes_  ago. He didn’t feel like that same Sans.

 

He was about to kill her again by sheer reflex when the kid slowly turned around and looked at him, eyes wide, no judgment or hatred in them but just—

 

Curiosity. And a hint of  _disappointment_.

 

"Did you just... kill me a bunch of times?"

 

Sans let out a breath of relief.

 

_Frisk_.

 

He practically  _ran_  to her and  _hugged her_  and she froze.

 

" _bad runs_ ," he told her with a soothing voice as he let his fingers move through her hair and he kissed her nose and her forehead. "a lot of them.  _sorry_."

 

Her body tensed. "Did I kill anyone?"

 

"no," he said and he kissed her forehead again, kissed the top of her head, moved his fingers from her hair to stroke her cheek and the back of her earlobe. "not once. i took care of it."

 

She let out a sigh of relief before she clung to him. "I'm sorry you had to do that."

 

Sans forced out a weak snort. "you always think the best of me."  _you should really stop._

She stood up on her toes and pressed a sweet and grateful kiss on his cheekbone and Sans thought that he would  _slam her to the ground and fuck her all over again._

 

"I couldn't live with myself if I hurt anyone else. I thought— I thought I was doing a good job ignoring...  _them_. I’m sorry. I can't believe I let them take over again. When did I die?"

 

Sans felt  _guilty_  and  _nauseous_  and he didn't say anything. The expression on the kid's face changed but he couldn't quite make it out.

 

She wasn't looking at him anymore. Wasn't looking at anything in particular.

 

He had to bring her back from whatever she was hearing or thinking. "kid, you SAVEd here before you— before the timeline RESET. did you do it on purpose? do you know what it means to SAVE?"

 

Frisk shook her head no, and she looked at him again with curiosity in her eyes.

 

Her eyes were  _so beautiful_.  
  
“okay, kid, then I need you to listen to me,” he said and he moved his hands to her cheeks, leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. “just focus and listen to _me_ , okay?”

 

She blushed a lovely pink. Her eyes were wide and her lips slightly parted in _such an alluring way_ but he focused on distracting her.

 

"i don’t fully understand SAVEs myself, but the phenomena seems to act like a ‘bookmark’ wedged into the timespace, if that makes sense” Sans told her, and it was so hard to explain, without the proper math background, the data, the graphs. “at first i thought they happened entirely randomly, a way for the universe to not just completely RESET to the beginning, you know? but then i noticed the patterns when you arrived and you— it just _seemed_ like you were having something to do with it. i’d often wondered if that was the case. you didn’t do it on purpose?”  
  
 “Um— No, I— I don’t think so. I’m not even sure what a timespace is,” she muttered, and Sans couldn’t help it—

 

He let go of her and laughed. “sorry, that was rude of me. that’s what gaster and i preferred to call it. spacetime?”  
  
She looked at him blankly and Sans just laughed harder.  
  
“ _oh_ ,  _man_. you just have no clue, do you?”  
  
Frisk blushed furiously and pushed herself away from him. “Well, I’m  _so sorry_  I’m so dumb and not smart like  _you_!” she said angrily.

 

It took Sans a considerable effort to stop laughing. “no, _sorry_ , don’t be like that, kid. you’re very clever. sometimes i just forget how _young_  you are,” he said, and his laughter died completely as he found himself unable to once again appreciate the curves of her body and he felt again tempted, _so tempted_ , and he remembered  _what he had done_.

 

“I’m not a child,” she said childishly, and he could tell that she was getting into one of  _those moods_  again. Sans groaned. His brain still hurt from the RESETs, and he didn’t have the strength to deal with this  _shit_.  
  
“i never said that,” he told her, a hand rubbing is temple as he tried to sound apologetic through gritted teeth. “i’m sorry. let's just say i forget we don't have the same scientific background. anyway, about the SAVEs— you’re not consciously doing them?”  
  
“I don’t think so,” the kid muttered. He pulled her close to him again and soothed her, pressing another kiss on the top of her head.

  
“sucks. that makes my job a bit harder. you wanna get outta here? we can talk somewhere else,” he said. "grillby's? the forest?"—he was specifically avoiding having to go home and look at Papyrus—"we can even talk in your hiding spot," he said without thinking, and it was like a million different things came crashing into the kid at once, because suddenly she froze and then  _she pushed him away_  and she was looking at him like he was possessed and there was  _panic in her face_.

 

“Um— Sorry,” she said, movements slightly jerky, and Sans knew exactly what she was going through because he had been through the same long ago when he’d first started feeling the RESETs. Leftover anxiety and fear from the previous timeline when they’d met at the cave. Without the memories to go with it, the body was having a hard time regulating the strong emotions.

 

Sans backed off. He felt so completely  _worthless_. This kid could really grow to hate him; he wouldn’t blame her if she did.

 

“you don’t seem okay. i can take you back home,” he offered gently. “papyrus is there. i could give you some space so you—”  
  
She grabbed his hand with hers and tugged it towards her. “You. I want you. I’m sorry, I don’t— I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry. I’m not mad. It was nothing you did. I’m sorry.”

 

And then she wrapped her arms around him and started sobbing into his coat and Sans felt like complete and utter  _trash_  as he held her to him and he felt—

 

He didn’t know what he felt.

 

Self-hatred. Lust. Shame.

 

“shh, kid,” he soothed her, once again kissing the top of her head. “i understand. RESETs are iffy and the leftover emotions are never fun. i’ve been there.”

 

“H-how can you  _stand_  it?” she hiccupped. “I feel—I feel  _awful_. I don’t  _want_  this.”

 

“it will pass, kiddo, shh,” he kissed her forehead and cupped her cheek, brushing some of her tears away. “i’m sorry. i’m  _so sorry_  you’re going through this. focus on breathing, sweetheart, i’ve got you.”

 

He held her as her breathing became frantic and she cried, trembling, anxious screams and fear pouring out of her. He ran his fingers gently through her hair, kissed the top of her head, her forehead, stroked her arms with a flutter of blue magic and felt completely _unworthy_ _of touching her_.

 

Sans was _just a_ _broken shell_ of a monster who had gone through too many conscious RESETs, had seen too much, killed too much, had suffered and caused others to suffer  _way – too – much_. And Frisk was  _so good_ —

 

_So kind_ —

 

_So loving_ —

 

_So MERCYful_ —

 

And  _he wasn’t worthy of loving her_ as imperfectly as he did, as  _badly_  as he did, but Sans had been  _so selfish_

_He was such a fucking selfish asshole_

And all he wanted to do was be with her, and touch her, and hold her, and kiss her, even as she stood broken before him,

 

_Broken because of him_ and _she would never know it._

 

_He was such a coward._

 

And he was so  _disgusting_  and  _needy_  and  _weak_.

 

He loved her with all the broken pieces of himself that he still carried.

 

And then her breathing finally got steady. She wiped her tears with the sleeves of her sweater and looked up to him with her puffy eyes red from crying yet she _still looked so astonishingly beautiful to him._ And all he wanted to say was  _do you remember when I told you I love you?_

_Another dead timeline_. Another remnant of a past that he shared with her but only he recollected.

 

Another bit of fuel to her nightmares.

 

Nightmares of  _him_.

 

_This was the second fucking time he had raped her because of his twisted love for her._

Because he  _wanted_  her.

 

And he so badly wished that he could make himself  _stop_.

 

Sometimes he wished he’d  _never met her_ , had  _never met Toriel_ , had  _killed the kiddo on sight_.

 

It would have been more Mercy than  _this_.

 

“Thank you,” he heard her say once her heartbeat steadied, and it was like a _kick to the gut_ for him, not that he had guts, but _still_.

 

Sans _hated himself_.

 

"let me do something for you," he softly told her. "anything. whatever you want."

 

He saw her shy smile and was _so grateful_ that she was no longer _the defeated girl he had fucked._

 

"You mean, like a birthday present?" she asked him and he snorted. Of _course_ for her birthday. Next month, on the third.

 

"yeah," he grinned at her. He didn't feel like grinning but for _her,_ he would.

 

"Don't let Papyrus feed me snail cake. That thing is disgusting," she said, half-laughing, and he could see the life slowly come back to her eyes and he was thankful, _so thankful_ , _for Frisk_. 

 

Sans laughed. "consider it done. i'll eat it myself i have to."

 

Frisk laughed with him. "I'll have the condiments ready."

 

" _mustard_ you think of everything?"

 

"Ha! That was _so lame_ , you dork," she laughed. Then slowly, she went serious. "You know, there is one more thing. I'd choose it over the lack of snail cake, actually."

 

He didn't like where this was going but he smiled. "yeah kid?"

 

"I think I need to keep going. To meet Asgore. I can feel it. But I have to leave Snowdin for that, and I was hoping things could stay the same between us, that we could still be friends and hang out together, if— when I left."

 

His grin faded. “kid… there’s no way i’m going to let you meet asgore. you’re going to get yourself killed.”

 

“Maybe we can find another way,” Frisk told him, eyes determined, and _he hated the dumb childish idealism in her voice_. “But I’m the last soul—you’re all so close to be free—I just want—”

 

“any other human could take your place,” he said coldly. “let them. you should stay.”

 

“ _Sans_ ,” she said in a reproachful tone. “You know I can’t do that.”

 

“ _i_ can,” he told her, and he let his hands fall to her hips, pulling her closer to him, reveling on _how soft her body felt_ against his. “i swear if you leave i’m going to follow you and kill off any monster that tries to touch you _. i’ll kill asgore_ if i have to. don’t go, kid. please?”  
  
She pulled herself away from him and looked at him dead in the eye sockets, brow furrowed. “Don’t tell me that. You’re better than that.”  
  
Sans snorted. This was _hilarious_. He _pulled her back_ towards him, arms firmly wrapped against the back of her waist. “i’m _better_ than that? i thought this was the timeline where i’d told you about all those kids i murdered,” he half-joked. His voice came out bitter.

 

The kid went quiet, and Sans laughed _again_. This was— _really_ funny. She _clearly_ had no response to _that_.

 

“look, i get that you have this silly crush on me,” he said, and he was _really_ wanting to laugh now, this entire situation was just incredibly hilarious. “that you think you _love me_ , or whatever, so you’ve had me idealized in your little childish head. but, kid— _i’m not like that_. i’ll _never be good_ , i’m _manipulative_. i’m _selfish_ … i’m…”  
  
She tried to pull herself away from him again but _he held her there_.

 

“i’m… i’m wrong a little too often. i take… a little too much pleasure in other people’s pain, when inflict it…”

 

 “Let _go_ of me,” she said firmly. He ignored her.  
  
“and kid, it wouldn’t really hurt you if you took a cue from me and started being _at least a little bit selfish_ too. but until you do, i can be selfish enough for the both of us.”  
  
She tried to push herself away from him and he let go of her, feeling a juvenile sort of satisfaction as she fell to the ground from her effort. The satisfaction was short-lived and he immediately felt _guilty_. He sighed and offered his hand.

 

She took it. He helped her up. This had been a really stupid fight.

 

“ _don’t_ go to asgore, kid,” he said, and he wished it sounded like a command but instead it sounded like he was pleading. “ _don’t_ make me kill him. i will, if he fights you. you and pap… you mean the world to me now, you’re more important than us getting out. _please_ understand that.”

 

Her voice was small. There was a hint of frustration in it that he didn’t quite understand. ”Sometimes, I don’t think it’s up to me.”

 

“ _make_ it up to you. i’ll do genocide,” he warned her. _Begged her._ He felt trapped. “i don’t want to. i _really_ don’t. but i’ll do it, if i have to.”

 

He pulled her to him again and sent a desperate wave of tingling magic with his hand up her back and when she gasped and blushed profusely he felt a sick disappointment in himself as he realized what he had resorted to doing to her, _again_. “ _please_ just be selfish. stay with us.”

 

_He didn’t want her to leave_. She would get _killed more times_ _than he had killed her_.

 

She looked _so hesitant_. “ _Sans_ — I—”

 

Another pulse of magic up and down her back and suddenly he was aware that they were still in Hotland. His eye sockets were _on her_ and he desperately hoped she couldn’t see how _hungry_ he felt, how _bold_ he was being— _Again_ —

 

He _certainly saw an invitation_ in the way she looked at him.

 

“let’s not fight, kiddo. i’m _bone tired_ ,” he told her, eye sockets fixed on her face, taking in her every expression. “wanna go to bed?”

 

There was a hint of fear in her voice as she laughed off his question. “it’s like two in the afternoon.”  
  
“there are _other things_ _we can do_ if you don’t want to sleep,” he told her, and he leaned down and pressed his mouth to her neck. He felt her breath catch in her throat. Sans tried wildly to remember which timeline he was in. “remember what we had been doing when your little friend rang the phone? we could do _that_ again. would you like that?”

 

_“_ Um—” She hesitated, but _she didn’t say no._

He pressed a small kiss against her neck and she groaned slightly. Sans’ grin widened. _She wanted it._ “off to bed now, i think.”

 

He had them take a shortcut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12 or The One Where Sans Doesn't Learn His Lesson, FFS Sans Jesus Christ.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NEW CHAPTER IS HERE. 
> 
> There's another warning in this chapter for... whatever this is.
> 
> Ugh OMG JFC.

She fell on the bed with a squeak and suddenly Sans was on top of her.

 

He was  _desperate_ , he  _needed to do this_ , he  _needed_  to convince the kid to stay, but at the same time he was

 

_So  w a n t i n g  this_.

 

He'd missed her  _so, so much_  throughout the RESETs.

 

A flash of blue as he shoved his hand under her shirt and bit her earlobe. "you want to do this, right?" he asked her, voice growing husky with  _need_. 

 

A small moan escaped her lips as he gently licked the soft skin of her earlobe and he took that as enough of a  _yes_. He rewarded her with another flash of blue and his hand on her navel. She needed to associate him with good things, and  _only good things_ — _please, please_ —

 

_Don't leave_.  _Don't go_.

 

_Stay here_.

 

Sans tried hard to remember what their past in this particular timeline was like. His mind was still  _a mess of timelines_. It had been such a  _long time_  since the RESETs happened back-to-back like they had. "we've done this before?"

 

Her voice was coming out  _soft_ and _silky_  and  _he loved it_. "Um— yes? Yesterday. You don't remember?"

 

He let out a soft laugh against her ear. "it feels like  _forever ago_  to me."

 

Another small bite to her earlobe and then a kiss planted against the skin just below it. They hadn't gone  _too far_  in this timeline. Maybe  _that_  was the problem. Maybe if they became an item, like she  _so wanted_ —

 

Maybe if he  _fucked her so hard and so thoroughly enough_   _like **he**  wanted_—

 

Maybe she would forget this silly idea of trying to free the monster race and he wouldn't have to kill Undyne, wouldn't have to kill Asgore, wouldn't have to  _kill anything that stood in her fucking way_  because  _she was_   _his_ ,  _she was_   ** _only his_** —

 

And he  _really_  didn't want the dust to mix in with the blood that he'd never felt completely cleansed out of but  _for her_ ,  _he would_.

 

_He would do anything_  if it meant he got to keep her in the end.

 

He moved on to kiss her neck, hands moving up her waist under her shirt and softly massaging his magic into her skin. "i missed this. have i kissed you?"

 

He could practically hear the frantic blush in her voice when she let out an indignant "No!"

 

Sans laughed. He couldn’t help it. She was acting  _pretty high and mighty_  for a kid who was letting him do  _whatever he wanted to her_. "wanna try it?" His voice was husky and he stuck out his blue tongue in a cheeky manner, moving his mouth only inches away from her own. "curious?"

 

"No,  _thank you_ ," she glared at him. Then her voice faltered with uncertainty, "We've really never kissed... Have we?"

 

A flash of guilt.  _He lied to her_. "of  _course_   _not_ , kiddo."

 

His hand went  _up up_  under her shirt until he felt the band of her bra with the tip of his fingers. How _frustrating_. That bit of fabric should  _come off_.

 

He had to will himself to not disappear it.

 

"i wouldn't exactly be opposed to the idea, though, you know. of kissing you.  _just this_   _once_ , if you're curious."

 

She went quiet,  _so quiet_ , and he decided to  _push_. "have you ever kissed anyone before? wanna try?"

 

"Um— I'd rather not," she said. She sounded unsure.  **He pushed some more**.

 

"i won't tell anyone," he told her. And then her eyes drifted to his mouth and she bit her lower lip  _just so_ , in a way that was  _so alluring_  and  _inviting_  and just  _so, so tempting_. And couldn’t resist her and gave her  _a quick peck on the lips_  with his magic in a way that seemed entirely innocent, was probably in itself  _entirely innocent_ —

 

He could escalate it later. He was definitely  p l a n n i n g  to.

 

Frisk blushed a furious red and Sans felt the sick need to see if that blush extended to her entire naked body. 

 

"just like that. no big deal. of course, it might feel different if you ever kiss someone with actual lips," he winked. 

 

"I can't believe you just did that," Frisk said and she sounded mortified and  _excited_  and  _happy_ —

 

And Sans was feeling  _so possessive of this kid._  

 

Her first kiss was  _his_.  _Again_. Just for  _him_ ,  **no one else**. He felt  _victorious_.

 

_Sans would make sure this timeline would SAVE even if it killed her._

 

"i can do many things," he grinned at her. He hated how predatory the way he was looking at her felt to him and  _hated even more how innocently oblivious she was to what he was doing_. If she knew,  _if she had more experience_ — Perhaps this wouldn't feel so  _wrong_. "better learn them from me, right? i can teach you." His eyes wandered back to her mouth and it looked  _so alluring, so tempting_ —

 

"have you ever had another person's tongue in your mouth, kiddo?"

 

She scrunched up her nose in disgust. " _Ew, gross_! Of course not! That sounds  _so_  disgusting."

 

Sans laughed. "you're so inexperienced. it actually feels pretty good." He stuck his tongue out her again in a seemingly cheeky manner but  _this time_  he hoped it sparked her interest. "i can show you. wanna try?"

 

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I'd really rather not."

 

"what  _would_  you rather do?" he asked her suddenly.

 

"Um—  _what_?"

 

"what would you want me to do? i can  _show_  you— _give_  you— _teach_  you— _anything_ ," he whispered in her ear, one hand up her back, placing the other one up against her navel and conveniently   riding her shirt up. When she froze and didn't push him away  _he kept going_ , soft kisses on her neck, hands full of blue magic travelling up and down the kid's torso. "anything you want, kiddo. just ask for it. go on.  _be selfish_."

 

She gently pushed him way and her eyes met his and suddenly he wanted to  _pin her down again and force her to take him_.

 

He instead forced himself to look at her and he could  _swear_  he hadn't meant to tighten his grip on her as he had.

 

"I don't want anything," she told him stubbornly, but she was a liar,  _Sans knew that she was_ ,

 

He called her out on it.

 

"everybody wants  _something_ , kid. just ask me, i will give it to you,"  _name your price_.

 

And suddenly the kid looked determined and she must have felt  _braver than she looked_. She looked at him straight in the eye and her cheeks were red and her voice was soft but  _it never wavered_  when her eyes glowed bright with Determination and she said " _You_. I want  _you_."

 

And Sans felt  _triumph_  and  _guilt_  and  _so much lust_  and  _self-hate_  mixed in with the frantic and desperate  _broken_   _love_  that he felt for her.

 

"Just you," she mumbled again and she looked away, now sounding far shier and more uncertain than before.

 

Sans gave out a chuckle before he said in a voice that was lighter and more teasing than he felt like being, "you already  _have_  me, kiddo. right here in snowdin."

 

Her face fell and she sounded disbelieving and  _frustrated_. "Are you really  _doing all of this_  just to get me to stay in Snowdin?" 

 

Sans wouldn't have loved the kid so much if she weren't  _so clever_.

 

Another wave of pleasurable magic down her back but  _this_  time,  _the kid_   _tried to move away from it_. Sans was beginning to feel like he was losing her again and he hated the fights and her rejection. "you can't really blame me for wanting you to stay here, kiddo. asgore  _will kill you_. if you even  _make_   _it_  to asgore."

 

"Does it really matter if I die? Doesn't the timeline just  _Reset_?” She sounded so angry and then became thoroughly embarrassed when  _he got angry too_  and he shoved his hands down the sides of her hips and  _he forced her with his magic to feel so aroused_   _and turned on for him_  that another moan escaped her lips before she  _bit her lower lip_. Her cheeks flushed red and she averted her gaze as she stubbornly pretended not to have felt anything,  _but Sans knew_ —her breathing was getting heavier,  _her hips had shifted_   _ever so slightly towards him_ — “Besides,  _what do you care_? You've probably killed me more times than I can  _count_."

 

His grip tightened around her hips in a possessive way and he was  _so angry_. "good point, and yet here you are again  _messing around_   _in the bed of your killer, kid_. i guess that really  _should_  call your judgment into question since you're  _clearly_   _so obsessed with me_ ," Sans said, tone nasty and demeaning as he snapped at her. 

 

Her cheeks were still red and she looked  _furious_ and tried to push him off of her. “I’m not  _obsessed with you!_ ”

 

He laughed. “ _puh-lease_ , kiddo. like i haven’t noticed you how try to spend  _every waking moment of your day with me_. not to mention at night,  _you sleep on **my**  bed_."

 

"You're such a hypocrite! If you had such a problem with it, you wouldn't keep inviting me to spend time with you and maybe I'd  _finally be over you_  already!"

 

He hated how true her words sounded. " _god_  you are  _such a little brat_."

 

"I'm not a brat, I am  _not_  a kid! I'm almost fourteen!"

 

The ridiculous statement almost made his laugh seem sincere instead of sounding as mocking and bitter as it came out. "you’re  _nothing but a child_."

 

“I am  _not_ — _stop always acting like I’m some little kid!_ ” She was absolutely glaring at him and tried to push him off of her  _again_ ,  _hard_ , and this time she almost succeeded until he pinned both of her wrists to the bed with each hand,  _he was_   _so fucking angry with her_.

 

" _fine_ ,” he told her, and he tried hard to control his breathing, and his fury, and the ever-present  _sick temptation_  to taste the kid’s mouth with his own. His face was inches away from hers, and he could tell her breathing was heavy too. “ _fine_ , you’re not a kid?  _let's have sex, then_ , since you  _so badly want to be treated like an adult_."

 

Her face paled and her voice stuttered. "Wh- _what_?"

 

" _let's have sex, kiddo._   _prove me you're not a child_."

 

And Sans was  _sure_  he'd won, was  _sure he'd shut her up_  for at least a while, and the kid looked so  _scared_  and so  _intimidated_  but also  _angry_  and so she said, to his surprise, her words coming out like she was accepting a dare out of spite, " _Fine!_ "

 

There must have been a visible change in the way he looked at her then because suddenly there was fear hidden somewhere in her furious glare and her resolve was beginning to crumble.

 

She was  _bluffing_. She  _had to be_.

 

But she had given  _permission_. And he was  _so angry_  with her,  _so tempted_ ,  _so resentful_.

 

_So fucking horny from having her alone and on his bed and pinned under him._

 

This hadn't been the way he envisioned her giving herself to him but  _he knew_  that he still wanted to accept the offer and  _he was so mad_.

 

_Mad at himself_  for being weak.  _Mad at her_  for being juvenile.

 

Mad at  _the world_  and  _at himself_  for expecting and wanting  _anything more mature and less petty and juvenile from a fucking little kid_.

 

And he was angry and he was tempted to  _just take her at her word_. To pretend she wasn't a child and a virgin,  _again_ , in this fucking timeline and  _just take her rough and hard_  and  _use her_  and  _ruin her_  and  _come inside of her just so many times until she was limp and tired of crying and begging him to stop and just took it however he felt like giving it to her and without complaint_.

 

_He wanted to know what it was like to fuck the Determination out of her._

 

And he knew it wasn't ideal but his hands still strengthened their grip on her wrists and when she  _flinched_  he thought if the kid was  _such a slut_  that she would  _give herself to him_  after having so clearly angered him then  _perhaps she deserved to feel what it was like when he was feeling like being rough_.

 

He moved her hands above her head and firmly pinned them with one hand so that with the other he could unzip her pants. Her face paled and he reveled in the fear in her eyes.

 

"so you want me to  _fuck you_ , then,  _you little slut_?  _do you know what you're asking_?" he said, and his voice was  _rough_  and  _husky_  and  _dark_  against her ear as he moved his hand down her pants and started playing with the hem of her underwear. She was frozen into place,

 

But  _her breathing was heavy_ with a want that he didn’t know she could possess.

 

And maybe  _she wanted it_  and  _maybe she didn't_. In any case,  _she wouldn't want it for long_.

 

Not when he was in one of  _those moods_.

 

He was  _angry at her and at himself_  when he briefly brushed his fingers against her clit through the fabric of her underwear. The kid whimpered with fear  _and with lust_.

 

There was  _no way he could go through with this_  without ending up with yet another broken timeline. Another RESET.

 

He bit the soft flesh of her neck with a force that was  _far gentler_  than he felt like applying but the kid flinched anyway.

 

And there was  _no way he could go through with this_. The kid didn't deserve to bear the brunt of his cruelty. 

 

He moved his mouth to her ear and gently bit her earlobe again before his fingers briefly  brushed against her clit  _one last time_  through the fabric of her  _damp underwear_  and then he whispered, " _i don't fuck little girls_." 

 

And his tone sounded nasty and mean but  _what_   _he was saying was such a **boldfaced lie**_  that for a moment he was afraid she'd call him out on it.

 

He felt an immense gust of relief when  _she never did_.

 

And then he  _moved himself off of her_  and sat at the edge of the bed. He turned to look at her and she looked so completely  _rejected_  and  _ashamed_  and he felt like such a  _worthless, disgusting asshole_  but he told himself  _it was for the best_.

 

They both should  _really_  get over each other.

 

Still he felt like the scum of the Earth when the kid started crying and she clung again to the front of  _his_  coat and pressed her head against  _his_ chest, her pants still unbuttoned, her shirt looking a jumbled mess like someone had—

 

_like a grown-fucking-man had been trying to take it off_.

 

He felt so incredibly  _sick_  and  _ashamed_  of himself.

 

"You're such a jerk! I hate you," she scolded him, and when he felt her hands loosen their hold on his coat he thought she would run away but instead  _she wrapped her arms around him_  and started sobbing against his chest. " _I hate you_. I hate that I love you. That was  _so mean_ —"

 

And at least that would make it two of them that  _hated his guts_.

 

He  _didn't dare touch her_  and he guessed that made him more of an asshole than he already was.

 

"i'm sorry, kiddo," he said and he really meant it, he felt so guilty. "i know i'm a jerk."

 

A single boney hand on the top of her head. Her hair felt so soft as he stroked it. "i’m so sorry, kid. i won’t—i don’t know what came over me. i’m sorry i touched you like that. that was way outta line.”

 

She hugged him even tighter and cried even harder against him. “You jerk…  _Asshole_.” The cuss sounded gross coming out of her lips.

 

A tentative arm wrapped around her as the other one started playing with her hair in that way that she found so calming. “i won’t do it again. please… i’m so sorry.”

 

And when _she didn’t leave_  it steadied his resolve and he gave her a shy kiss on the top of her head.

 

“this shouldn’t have happened. what i just did… there are ways we can prevent it, you know?”

 

She shook her head frantically from side to side  _and he almost wanted to shake some sense into her_.

 

“ _yes_ , you know. you’re very clever. this thing, between us… this— ‘friendship’. it would  _never work_. you know that, right? it would be best if we were kept apart. we shouldn’t ever be alone together. you understand that, right?”

 

Her voice finally came out, small and frantic. “Please don’t leave me, Sans,  _please, please_ —”

 

He ran his fingers through her soft hair. “kiddo, you are  _so good_. and i— we are  _complete opposites_  in the morality scale. you should know— i’m not a good person. and i’m telling you this just once, because it’s really hard for me to warn you off, but i feel like i  _should_  and i— do you know how many times i’ve been  _close_  to hurting you? how many times i have  _wanted to_? and i am  _not_  just talking about the times you don’t come back as yourself after a RESET. this is ongoing. i’ve wanted to— _do bad things to you_ —a lot of times.”

 

“You haven’t hurt me once,” she told him, reassuring, and he kept stroking her hair and her back and  _he chuckled_.

 

“i haven't hurt you once that you  _remember_.

 

“the timelines usually end when i screw up.

 

“you  _know_  how i can make the timelines end, right kiddo?”

 

And she sat ever so still and her hands shook slightly but  _she didn’t pull away_.

 

Sans felt like a huge weight had been taken off his shoulders and had been instead transported  _directly into his chest_.

 

“so now you know. what you do now is up to you. you can’t leave snowdin— _i will follow you if you do_ —but if you never want to see me again—”

 

She cut him off and her voice was stern but it had that ridiculous quality that was  _so full of Mercy_  that she used when other monsters were trying to give her a hard time. “Have you ever watched MewMew: Kissy-Cutie 2? I’ve heard it’s  _awful_. We should watch it to make sure, just for the laughs.”

 

He blinked twice. “kid?”

 

“I don’t think I’d have as much fun watching it with Papyrus as I do with you. You and I—when we watch bad tv together, you always come up with the  _funniest_  commentary, it makes me  _love watching bad tv with you_. Papyrus just likes  _everything_. Remember that time we made fun of him for an entire week because he thought Mettaton’s one-robot soap opera was going to be a hit? He would probably just  _love_  MewMew: Kissy-Cutie 2. Then where would I get my nightly dose of snark?”

 

“buddy, if you’re just trying to change the subject—”

 

“You are  _so funny_. And smart. And so considerate and caring and  _good_. You are  _so good to everyone_. I wish you had told me all of this earlier so that I would know how unaware you are of how  _actually good you are_. I have  _never_  felt unsafe around you, at least not in  _this_  timeline. Isn’t that enough?”

 

He  _did_  shake her slightly this time. “this thing you’re doing has gotten you killed before. refusing to see anything but the best in everyone. kid, i admire that, but—you have no idea how stressful it is to watch, you’ve died doing this  _so many times_ —with the married dogs, with snowdrake, with  _me_ —”

 

“And aren’t I still alive?” she asked him and he didn’t quite know how to answer to that.  
  
“ _frisk_ , kiddo, you— you really have a death wish, don’t you— you’re really _rattling my bones_  here, sometimes i think i have to worry  _sick_  about you for the both of us—”

 

That got a  _huge smile_  out of her and she gave him a quick kiss on the chin before enthusiastically saying, “ _Hi, Sans!_  I missed you! It’s  _snow nice_  to see your  _puntastically_  caring self is back.”

 

He stared at her. There were no words.

 

She tried to pull away from her embrace and  _this time_ when he held her in place there was no malice.

 

No shame.

 

Just awe.

 

“you and i should have a very long talk one of these days, kiddo,” he told her, and then he gently pushed her hair out of her face and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and  _he let her go_.

 

He felt suddenly so hollow being without her.

 

And then she gave him a warm smile and  _she held out her hand_.

  

And he knew that he didn't deserve her _but_ _he still took her hand_ and for the moment allowed himself to _just be content_.

 

Some indefinable quality had changed between them and _he knew_ he and Frisk were somehow closer to each other than they were before, however that was, whatever _their_ relationship was.  


For some reason they loved each other more than he thought could be possible—him with his broken soul, her with her pure one—each in their own special way

 

She pulled him towards the door and jokingly told him “How much are you willing to bet Papyrus is making spaghetti right now?”

 

And Sans _remembered_. Pap was making _ravioli_. He smiled and the words came out without malice but he still felt something tight form in his chest. “i bet you all your secrets that he _isn’t_.”

 

Frisk laughed. “Ha! _Game on_. But if I win, you have to watch MewMew: Kissy-Cutie 2 with me and there will be _no third person allowed_. You always hold back the snark when Papyrus is liking the show.”

 

His smile widened. That sounded good too.

 

“i guess we’ll see, kiddo,” he said and he held her hand tightly and stole a kiss from her cheek and he loved the way the simple affection made her blush. “but if i were you, i’d start trying hard to remember my life story.”

 

She stuck her tongue out at him in a playful way and he grinned mischievously before sticking out his. And he _still_ wanted to taste that pink tongue with his own; he _still badly wanted her_ — He still felt the _shame_ and the _guilt_ and the _lust_ — He couldn’t believe he had crossed _such a big line with her without discontinuing the timeline_ —

 

But there was something else now between them that he couldn’t quite make out, something stronger and heavier that was between _them_ and not just within him.

 

He found that he liked whatever it was they now shared even more than he liked the feeling of his cock being forced into her.

 

Sans could get used to this change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOMETHING HERE DOESN'T ADD UP.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, new chapter! And this story is now rated "Explicit" because come on.
> 
> Also, I've been trying to reply to everyone who has been kind enough to leave a comment. Sometimes it has taken me a long time to actually write back. But I just wanted to say THANK YOU and that I appreciate and am grateful to everyone who is reading this and taking the time to give feedback or a short comment or even "just" leave a kudo (which is a big deal! holy cow there are LOTS of kudos for this!). Reading all your imput really makes my day. Thank you all so much! ^^
> 
> Also I am so sorry-yet-not-sorry to have you all as my sort of captive audience for this... this thing. There should be chocolates had by the end of this. 'Cause of all the Dementors.

She was with him, and he was with her, but seeing Papyrus again was still _painful_ and _excruciatingly predictable_.

 

Sans couldn’t help but hate being near Pap so soon after the RESET, and the kid  _noticed_ —Sans  _flinched_  when he saw his brother and Papyrus said—

 

“HUMAN! YOU’VE COME BACK!! AND JUST IN TIME TO TRY MY NEW PASTA DISH! YOU KNOW, I WAS CONCERNED BY HOW QUICKLY YOU DISAPPEARED EARLIER. AND NOW YOU’RE BACK AND I DIDN’T EVEN HEAR THE DOOR OPEN! HOW DID YOU MANAGE THAT?”

 

Sans didn't even bother to joke this time. Papyrus was acting _just the same_ as the last timeline and Sans _hated it_ , hated the way _even his brother became predictable_ , his words causing him to get that same _scratched record feeling_ that Sans _loathed_ so much. It was  _so depressing_. And  _of course_  the kid would apologize for not saying goodbye earlier, because she was  _so sweet_ —

 

"Um— We just ran really fast?"— _that_  was new—"Sorry we left without saying goodbye, Papyrus."

 

And  _of course_  Pap would answer with the same—

 

“NO REASON TO APOLOGIZE. I ASSUMED YOU DIDN’T WANT TO DISTRACT ME FROM MY IMPORTANT MEETING WITH UNDYNE." Sans almost  _gagged_.  _Old, old..._  He wanted to die,  _he wanted all timelines to really just end already_ , everything _anyone_ did now would be  _exactly_  the same,  _even Papyrus_ —

 

_Exactly the same and always repeating over and  o v e r  and nobody knew it but him._

 

"DID YOU HAVE A DECENT TIME AT HOTLAND WITH MY BROTHER, HUMAN? I AM STILL SORRY I COULD NOT GO."

 

"It was great!" the kid said, and suddenly Sans felt her soft hand on his arm. His eyes met hers and  _she was noticing him_ , her brows slightly furrowed with concern as if asking him:  _Are you okay?_  Then she turned to Papyrus and said "I took some pictures. There was a puzzle there!  Do you want to look at them, **later**?"

 

His attention perked up.

 

"WOWIE!! A NEW PUZZLE! YES, I LOVE LOOKING AT NEW PUZZLES!!!! BUT WHY CAN'T I SEE THE PICTURES NOW?"

 

"Sans and I wanted to go out into the cold again,” the kid _lied_ — _lied for him?_ “It was  _ridiculously hot_  in Hotland. Do you mind if we try your pasta later? We won't be out for long."

 

_That interaction was different._ And now Papyrus was _different, too._

 

"OF COURSE YOU CAN TRY MY DELICIOUS PASTA LATER! THAT ONLY GIVES ME TIME TO ADD THE FINISHING TOUCHES TO THIS WONDERFUL DISH! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL GREATLY SURPRISE YOU WITH THE GREAT MEAL I HAVE PREPARED!! YOU WILL BE SURPRISED, BROTHER AND HUMAN! NYEH HEH HEH!!!"

 

_That interaction was new new new!_

 

Sans suddenly felt the kid’s hand grab his own and she started pulling at it. "Thanks, Papyrus! Come on, Sans, let's go see the lake!"

 

She dragged him out, but he was giving no resistance. What  _was_  she planning? Sometimes, the ideas that formed on the kid’s head were so  _bewildering_ —

 

They walked in silence for a while and Sans refused to let go of the kid's hand as they headed to the body of water that Frisk liked to think of as a lake but that Sans knew very well was just a particularly thick patch of river.

 

They didn’t have to walk for long. Snowdin was a small town.

 

Once they made it there, she had them sit down under the trees nearest to the water. The kid then moved to let go of his hand and he held on even tighter.

 

He felt a possessive sort of satisfaction when she blushed and didn’t try to move her hand again.

 

“So what’s up?” she asked him, voice light. “You didn’t look too happy to see Papyrus there. It was… bizarrely unlike you. Did something happen between you two?”

 

Sans shook his head. “it was nothing, kiddo. just been a while since i’d had to see papyrus after a RESET.”

 

She made him feel like he had her full attention. “Care to elaborate?”

 

 He gave a small laugh even though he wasn’t finding anything particularly funny. “it was… as depressing as always, i guess. you have no idea what it is like. seeing people you care about just forget. they become so repetitive and predictable”—Sans snorted—“but I guess this time it was my own fault.”

 

Sans caught the way her hand clenched slightly around his own. If the kid had caught the meaning behind what he had said, she didn’t mention it.  


“everyone just seems to forget and then the world just repeats. everyone but you, kiddo.”

 

“I forget too,” she told him, but Sans shook his head.  


“you  _remember_. you just don’t know you do. but you’re  _so close to being aware of it, kiddo_. that little panic attack you had in hotland—”

 

The kid tensed up, and she clearly didn’t want to remember it, but Sans continued—

 

“you were  _remembering_ something, then. not consciously but the feelings were still there. i went through the same thing before i started holding on to conscious memories. it’s—i’m sorry, i know it was awful for you but it was exciting for me to see. you were remembering something  _i did_ —that i’m sorry that i did—but your mind can’t quite make out what the memory was so your body had trouble processing the sudden emotion.”

 

“Well, it  _really sucked_ ,” she told him, and now her voice had a reproachful hint to it.

 

“i know. i’m sorry. it will get worse,” he told her, and suddenly he wasn’t aware that he was doing it but he held her hand with both of his own and started running his fingers through the soft skin. He found the movement very calming for him, and pleasant. “but then we’ll  _both remember_. we’ll have each other.”

 

The kid bumped her shoulder against his. “We already  _have_  each other, you dolt. You’re not alone.”

 

Sans laughed. “buddies forever?”

 

“Of course! Best friends forever.” A pause from her, and then—“But Sans—what did you _do_?”

 

And he was a coward and he was _weak_ and he didn’t know how honest he could _be_. He thought for a long moment, and Frisk _was so patient_ , and then he finally mustered up just a little bit of courage and admitted,  “i RESET the timeline today.”

 

And he left out the way he had _kissed her_ and _how badly he’d wanted her_ and how he’d told her he loved her before apologizing _and taking her in the end_.

 

How much _he’d made her like it_.

 

How good it had felt _to feel her coming around his cock_.

 

How _badly_ and _guilty_ he had felt afterwards and how _empty_ she had looked after he was done pumping into her, how _unresponsive_ she’d become. _He’d broken her_ , in _that_ timeline. He didn’t want to do it again.

 

But at the same time _he really, r e a l l y did_.

 

She didn’t say anything and it felt like she was ignoring his confession. She probably was. The kid seemed as desperate to cling onto him as he was to her,

 

_And how fucked up and sick that was, that she would willingly keep herself at his mercy like this._

He gently massaged some of his magic into her hand in a way that felt forcefully intimate and frantic and desperate. Maybe the kid felt like she needed him, but _he needed her, too_.

 

“do you want to just go back?” he offered, and her smile was short and forced but she _still sweetly kissed his cheek_ and said, “When you’re ready.”

 

They weren’t ready for a while.  


  


"SURPRISE!!! I MADE A PASTA THAT IS CALLED RAVIOLI!"

 

Papyrus greeted them as soon as they got back with a batch of pasta squares that somehow looked overcooked and undercooked at the same time. The tall skeleton was beaming proudly at them, so Sans grinned—

 

"nice! thanks, pap, it looks great."

 

And from behind him, Sans could feel the kid moving to inspect the pot of pasta and then he heard her stifle a joyful snort.

 

"Oh my _god_ , Papyrus. Hahaha niiice! Th-thanks!"

 

"YOU ARE VERY WELCOME, HUMAN, SANS! IT WAS NO PROBLEM FOR ME TO LEARN A NEW PASTA DISH FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, AM A MASTERFUL COOK OF ANY AND ALL PASTA!"

 

"I'll s-set the table," the kid offered, and while Sans kept kindly congratulating Papyrus on his nonexistent cooking skills he caught Frisk giggling into the silverware drawer. He guessed Papyrus hadn't done a very good job with the ravioli dish. To be honest, it looked pretty unappetizing.

 

Sans and Frisk were both probably _still_ going to eat every last bit of it and compliment the chef afterwards.

 

The kid seemed to love Papyrus almost as much as Sans did. He loved her for that, and for many other things.

  
It wasn’t often that Sans encountered a person who admitted that his brother was cool.  
  
The three of them sat at the table and, just as predicted, he and Frisk ate the ravioli up. Every so often, Frisk would stifle another giggle or wipe the beginnings of a happy tear from her eye. Clearly, she was finding this entire thing to be hilarious.  
  
And Sans loved watching her.  
  
“this is great, pap,” Sans grinned, and something about the way he said it caught Frisk’s attention.  
  
She _knew_ his moods, she _knew_ his quirks. The kid caught on even before Papyrus did that a bad joke was coming soon.  
  
“WHY, THANK YOU, SANS,” Papyrus said, oblivious to Sans’ _humerous_ intentions. “I AM GLAD YOU LIKE THE RAVIOLI.”  
  
“i do, bro. in fact, i think you may have outdone yourself, which is surprising, because—”  
  
“WAIT— NO!”  
  
“—i thought that was—”  
  
“SANS DON’T DO IT OR I SWEAR—”  
  
“—im- _pasta-_ ble,” he finished with a wink and a grin, causing Papyrus to give out an exasperated screech and Frisk to laugh _so hard_ into her bowl of pasta that she started choking.  
  
“ _Hahahaha_ ”— _cough_ —“ _I’m fine, I’m fine_ —” she said between laughs and gasps for air. Papyrus looked _furious_.  
  
“SANS, YOUR BAD JOKES ARE GOING TO KILL THE HUMAN!”  
  
“heh, sorry kiddo,” Sans grinned. “i _cannoli_ believe you found that so funny.”  
  
Frisk laughed again and Papyrus glared at him as he suppressed his own laughter. “SANS! STOP!”  
  
“okay, bro,” Sans said.  
  
“FINALLY!”  
  
“no need to be _upsetti_ ,” Sans said.  
  
“SANS OH MY GOD.”  
  
It took the three of them a very long time to finish the meal.  
  
  
  
After dinner, Frisk would usually help Papyrus with the dishes while Sans pretended to nap on the couch because he was, as Papyrus often stated, a _lazy bones_.  
  
Frisk never minded, and in return Sans would often sneak food from Grillby’s into the house for the kid to eat when Papyrus wasn’t around to ask her why she wasn’t eating his pasta.  
  
As always, the kid took a long time cleaning the dishes with Pap. They often joked around while they did so, talking about puzzles or about some tv show or another. The two really seemed to enjoy each other’s company, for which Sans was grateful. Papyrus had so badly wanted a friend before the human came along.  
  
She completed them. The kid was like family now.  
  
Sans often wondered if Papyrus would be happy or perturbed if he ever married Frisk.  
  
And maybe marriage was too strong a thing to consider. The kid was, well— _a kid_ —and she was the anomaly and the cause for the RESETs. Her presence still spiked his scientific curiosity even through all the obsessive love and the lust that he felt for her. And she was just _so young_ and so _innocent_ and he was—  
  
Just _so, so undeserving_ of her.  
  
He had hurt her _so many times_ in _so many timelines_.  
  
But in these alternative scenarios that he dreamt up in his head, whenever Papyrus found out of this _thing_ he and the kid shared it was because the two of them were getting married, and Sans had to admit that as far daydreams went this one was nice enough.  
  
It would be _disturbing_ to daydream instead of a scenario in which he just up and told Pap that he was _fucking Frisk_ , was _raping Frisk_.  
  
He _always, always_ made sure to lock the door whenever the kid was in his room alone with him.  
  
And if Papyrus knew something was going on or if he even suspected—Sans _really, really didn’t want to know_.  
  
He would _die_ or _discontinue the timeline_ if Pap ever found out.  
  
Probably the latter. He was _such a coward_. And he couldn’t live with himself if he ever even remotely considered leaving Papyrus all alone.  
  
Papyrus and Frisk were all that he lived for now. Which was ironic, seeing as how the kid had caused Papyrus’ death so many times—  
  
And how he had _killed_ and _tortured_ and _inflicted so much_ _pain_ on the kid _just so many times_ —  
  
But he cared about them both _so, so much_. He would do anything for the both of them and needed them _so, so much_. He would protect the both of them from anything—  
  
_Except from himself._  
  
Except from the darkness that existed deep within himself.  
  
Levels of violence just weren’t a thing that could be gotten rid of. And hadn’t Sans known that, going in?  
  
Hadn’t he?  
  
Sometimes he felt like he’d had LOVE from the _start_. Even _before_ going to Asgore. Even _before_ killing the first human.  
  
The kid suddenly jumped on top of him and brought him out of his reverie.  
  
“Sans!” she exclaimed in her wonderful voice, pulling him out of the spiral of self-hate he had been dragging himself into. She was _so happy_ as she hugged him and said, “MewMew: Kissy-Cutie 2?”  
  
Sans grinned at her. “pap didn’t make _spaghetti_ , you cheater. where is my free bedtime story?”  
  
Papyrus seemed to hear the last words all the way from the kitchen. “SANS, IT’S TOO EARLY FOR MY BEDTIME STORY. THE HUMAN SAID WE WERE WATCHING ANIME TONIGHT.”  
  
Sans laughed at that. “why, you little _cheat_ ,” he mock-scolded the kid. She was grinning at him in a mischievous way that was just _so adorable_. Then he whispered in her ear without really thinking it, and he was vaguely aware that his voice had gotten husky, “you owe me _more_ than just a bedtime story _tonight_.”  
  
And then her breath caught on her throat and she blushed _a deep red_ and he found _he still wanted her_.  
  
He felt so _guilty_ _yet eager to sin_.  
  
Tonight might be a good night for the kid to try a sleepover with Papyrus.  
  
But he was **not** going to be the one to suggest that.  
  
“I HAVE HEARD GOOD THINGS ABOUT MEWMEW: KISSY-CUTIE 2,” Papyrus said, bringing a huge bag of burnt popcorn with him. Sans heard Frisk softly point out that Pap could have just asked her to make the popcorn instead.  
  
As Papyrus approached, Sans sat down on a corner of their jingly couch and _quickly grabbed the kid_ and pulled her onto his lap. Papyrus had this annoying tendency to sit right in between them, blocking him access to the kid.  
  
Papyrus, oblivious, still sat right in the middle of the couch, but now with less room the kid was squished against Sans and Sans found that  
  
_he really rather liked it when the kid’s body was pressed against his own._  
  
“ALPHYS TOLD ME THAT THERE ARE TERRIBLE FIGHTING SEQUENCES AND THE VOICE ACTING WAS SUBPAR, I DON’T KNOW WHAT SUBPAR MEANS, BUT FIGHTING SEQUENCES ARE MY FAVORITE PART OF ANIME.”  
  
Sans laughed, placing his arms casually but _firmly_ around the kid’s midsection. Man, his brother really liked _everything_. He was so cool.  
  
He knew Frisk didn’t like it when he held back on the snarky comments but Sans thought he might find MewMew: Kissy-Cutie 2 to be a good anime after all, if Papyrus liked it.  
  
The anime turned out to be a terrible thing to watch. _Jesus Christ, Alphys—how could you like this shit?_ But at least Sans had the kid sitting snugly on his lap and every so often, Papyrus would get up to make more popcorn—  
  
And then Sans would _stroke the kid’s thighs_ and _tease her with magic_ and he _never let on that he was doing it deliberately_ but he was _intensely aware_ of how the kid would _squirm against him_ in a way that felt _so good,_ perhaps _too good_.  
  
And Frisk grew quieter and quieter. And Sans wasn’t really paying attention to the anime anymore, in the end.  
  
He should have _really thought_ to bring a blanket downstairs to make his touching of Frisk an ongoing thing but at least Papyrus finished the batches of burnt popcorn pretty quick and was constantly pausing the show to go get more.  
  
By 8 PM he was incredibly horny. He probably needed fresh air. Instead, Papyrus wanted a bedtime story.  
  
He should have _really_ thought this through.  
  
Papyrus was awake enough to be read _two_ separate comics and reading each of them was increasingly painful in a very real way.  
  
Then Papyrus _finally_ fell asleep and when he did Sans _almost literally ran down the stairs_. He was _so ready_ to just grab the kid and drag her into his bed and _see just how far he could take things with her_ , he wanted to _go_ and _keep going_ and was ready to _not stop unless she absolutely begged him to_ —

He was _so horny for her_. And after all his work the kid was probably _so wet and eager for him_.  
  
_This was love, right?_  
  
Then he made it to the couch, and saw that the kid was asleep.  
  
Well, _shit_.  
  
She was probably still all tired out from Hotland. (They’d been to Hotland that day, right? It was still Saturday?) It had been a big day of many, many timelines, after all.  
  
He took a shortcut upstairs to grab a blanket for her and let her sleep.  
  
Sans guessed that tomorrow would be another day for him and Frisk. She looked so sweet when she rested.  
  
He kissed her forehead even though he wanted to do _much, much more_.  
  
She still owed her that conversation about how she had gotten down here and he was kind of selfishly hoping that she would also feel like she owed him sex.  
  
Not that the kid was experienced enough to know that’s what he wanted from her. But he was hoping even a kid like her might guess that there was only enough petting a man could do before he wanted a return in his investment.  
  
It was a far-fetched wish but there it was. Not that he expected Frisk to oblige. Not that he was even sure that she _should_ oblige.  
  
He was still incredulous and frankly sort of antsy that he hadn’t chosen to discontinue the timeline when he had _crossed so many lines_. Killing Frisk again would be a _Mercy_ if he was screwing the kid up with his lust. Screwing _her_ before he killed her would be an added bonus.  
  
And he hadn’t really done all he wanted to do to her, before.  
  
He hadn’t been _near_ selfish enough to _completely enjoy it_.  
  
And he was just thinking nonsense, honestly, because he was _so incredibly horny_.  
  
He _really should_ stop thinking of the ways he could hurt Frisk and instead focus on solutions to his current problem—like brushing up on his calculus or maybe solving a few energy problems, he had always liked those.  
  
He hadn’t really dared touch himself again in this godforsaken house since Papyrus nearly walked in on him that one time. He’d been unable to do _that_ without obsessing over whether Papyrus was around the corner or not ever since, and he _really_ didn’t feel like jacking it while he focused his thoughts on his brother, _God no._  
  
Jacking off was a _complete no_. Thanks, Papyrus. Sleepover at Undyne’s soon. __  
  
So was he going to try to integrate some vector functions or did he still have Sandy’s phone number or—?  
  
Come to think about it, it really _had_ been a long day. Maybe he could take a few books to bed and decide there.  
  
He dropped himself on his bed and it was pretty comfortable if not a bit too big and empty without Frisk.  
  
Maybe he should go back and move the kid into bed with him but what if she woke up or he ended up going just a little too far with her.  
  
And what about that math he had been considering doing? Not to mention— _did_ he have Sandy’s phone number? Would it be cheating on Frisk if he went and got off with someone else? _Why was he asking himself that?_ What _was_ he to Frisk?  
  
Maybe he should just go back downstairs and wake the kid up and they could talk.  
  
 He fell asleep trying to decide with his hand down his pants.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...
> 
> Frisk kind of took over this chapter.
> 
> ...yup.

He shouldn't have been as surprised as he was, waking up to find Frisk had crawled into his bed in the middle of the night.

 

No matter how much she had denied it, this kid was more than a little obsessed with him.

 

It was  _unhealthy_.

 

Had it not been for the fact that it was still ungodly early in the morning, Sans might have had the presence of mind to register how bizarrely ironic it was to worry about the kid’s state of mind as he nuzzled closer to what was still _technically_   _a child_.

 

He had fallen asleep with his hand down his pants. Had the kid noticed?

 

Maybe she'd want to, uh,  _help him out_.

 

That thought was as sick as it was  _ridiculous_. He shouldn’t be thinking this way.

 

He mustered the courage to check the clock. 

 

7:03 AM.

 

He wouldn't have to get up for another three hours, at least.

 

He sleepily grabbed at the kid's chest and fell asleep again before his mind would wake up enough to worry about the consequences.

 

 

 

Sans was woken up almost an hour later when a soft hand smacked his face.

 

" _ow_  kid  _what the hell_ —!?" he said, jumping up.

 

Frisk was looking determinedly at him. "I've been trying to wake you up for the past ten minutes."

 

_What? Was he late?_  Sans checked the time.

 

It was  _seven fifty-frigging-two_   _AM_  and this was  _not amusing_.

 

"kid, i don't know how helpful you think you are being but it is still  _insanely early_  for me and i—"

 

"It's still night-time," she told him, and for a moment all Sans could think was

 

_What the fuck was she talking about?_

 

"I owe you one, right? A bedtime story," the kid explained, and Sans' eye sockets widened in realization. Oh.

 

_Oh._

 

He couldn't help himself. He was still half-asleep and a bizarre hope bloomed in his chest when he asked " _just_  a bedtime story?"

 

The hope died pretty fast. " _Yes_ , just a bedtime story, you  _perv_."

 

Sans groaned and smashed his face into the pillow. It was still too early,  _too early for this_ —he was  _so tired_ —

 

A huff from the kid and he knew she was getting impatient. "Well do you want the bedtime story or not?"

 

"i am in bed," he said, and he put his hand around the kid's waist and pulled her closer to him. "i am awake," he said and he reveled on the way the kid looked mildly uncomfortable but  _didn't push him away_. "lay it on me, kid."

 

The kid took a deep breath as if she was mustering up all her courage before she said in one breath, "I climbed Mount Ebott because I wanted to disappear."

 

That woke Sans up completely. His eye sockets shot up to inspect the kid as if she had suddenly said that she had broken into pieces.  _Was she okay—!?_

 

"Now, this was a long time ago," she reassured him, and it was bizarre to think that she was trying to reassure  _him_ , when he was pretty sure at this point it was supposed to be the other way around. "I was ten. I— I don't remember much anymore. I was  _ten_. But I remember that I felt pretty lonely a lot. I was a loner in school. I didn't have any friends. And at home, my mom— Well, she didn't pay too much attention to me. She was always busy at work. She had a job that was pretty demanding. I didn't understand quite what it was that she did but it was something to do with marketing and she went to a lot of conferences. And my dad— Well, he wasn't around much."

 

Sans stayed quiet and tried hard not to notice how much like Daddy Issues that last bit of information sounded like.

 

"Anyway, I remember my dad was going to go camping to Mt Ebott with his family and my mom fought with him for  _days_  until he agreed to also take me. I remember mom needed a break; they always fought over her being the only one who took care of me.” The kid looked so dejected at that and Sans— _maybe he shouldn’t have_ , but he planted a soft kiss on her neck and traced a soft line of magic up the kid’s back.  
  
She rewarded him with a brief smile before continuing. “It was  _so awkward_ camping with them. Nobody ever climbs Mt Ebott, but at the base of the mountain there is a beautiful camping spot with many trails and a huge lake that goes on for _miles_ , you would  _love_  it if you saw it. The place itself was absolutely gorgeous. But I  _hated_  being there. I don't get along well with dad's kids and his wife never liked that I was shy and odd and didn’t talk much. I think she thought I was too weird to be around her kids. Well... I guess I sort of was."  
  
“you’re _perfect_ ,” Sans muttered, brushing his fingers against her soft hair. He was  _still tired_  but he was pressing her close to him and he was feeling like—

 

Getting to the surface.

 

And tracking these humans  _down_.

 

Frisk was oblivious to his thoughts and continued, her hands now nervously playing with the fabric of Sans’ shirt.   
  
"So I was ten. This happened a long time ago, alright? I was ten and I was lonely and I was stuck with my dad and his perfect family for eight days and I guess I just felt like they didn't want me there, you know? The only reason I was there at all was because my mom guilt-tripped my dad into taking me. I wasn’t really spending time with anyone while I was there. I mostly kept to myself. And after a few days I started feeling like if I disappeared, no one would miss me. And then I got the sudden urge to climb Mt Ebott."  
  
He kissed the skin under her ear and kissed her cheek and kissed her forehead and kissed the top of her head.

 

"And I guess looking back now maybe I climbed up there because I was supposed to. Like I was meant to fall down here for some reason, I don't know. I fell down, and now I don't know how many times I did fall down. It was probably a lot, right? You probably know a lot more about this than me.

 

“Anyway, that’s how I fell Underground—”

 

“why have you never told me any of this?” he asked her.  
  
She gave a half-shrug. “This was  _years ago_. I was  _ten_. And I— I guess I don’t like talking about it.”

 

“kid, you  _deliberately fell down here_. these are things that—”

 

_Why had the other children fallen down?_

 

“—that you should have told me about—”

 

_Were they like Frisk? Had they just been lonely, like Frisk?_

 

_(Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter—It was already done done **done** and all their blood was on his hands and there was no reason why it should matter—)_  
  
“—i’m your friend, kiddo.”

 

_And that was a lie, a **huge fucking lie**. _ He was _not friends with this kid_. He wanted to  _fuck her_  and  _use her_  and  ** _bind her to him_** —

 

Whatever they had, it wasn’t a friendship. It maybe had never been. And he felt a twinge of pain for her in his chest because, if it weren’t for Papyrus—

 

If it weren’t for his brother,  _this kid would be friendless still_.

 

And for some reason the kid was _enamored_ _with him_.

 

He couldn’t even _begin_ to deserve her.

 

And so he didn’t  _try_. And that was maybe the problem.

 

In the end, it didn’t matter if he deserved her or not, because she had still willingly climbed into  **his** bed. She was still reassured by  **his**  touch. He had crossed  _so many boundaries_  with her and had outright told her that  _he’d murdered her_  and she was still willing to be alone with **him** in  **his** house,  **his**  room—

 

And that—that _couldn’t_ be healthy. This kid wasn’t right.  _She was perfect_ , but she wasn’t—the way she perceived the world wasn’t quite— _right_.

 

He felt the sudden and irrational need to go to Toriel and ask for help because he was  _clueless as to what to do_  to make this kid snap out of whatever self-destructive mindset she was still clearly in.

 

_Ten year-olds shouldn’t be climbing doom mountains for fuck’s sake._ All the Souls he had collected had at least tried to run away or tried to fight back—

 

They hadn’t just— _clung to him_ , as he killed them,  _like Frisk_ —

 

She snapped him out of it. “I shouldn’t have told you this. You don’t look very happy.”  
  
“i don’t know what to tell you, kid.  _tibia_  honest, i was expecting a nicer story.  _maybe_  a story that would explain why the RESETs are so connected to you. i wasn’t expecting you to be just—”

 

_Just some lonely kid._

_Just some lonely kid_ that he had _taken advantage of, more than once._ That he had _forced his cock into, more than once._

 

He felt so  _disgusting_  and _guilty_ and _ashamed_.

 

_And his eyes still travelled more often than not down to her mouth, her chest—_

 

He  _so badly wanted to_ — _shouldn’t want_ — _shouldn’t have_ — this kid.  
  
“ _frisk_ —kiddo—you know i love you, right? i would do anything for you.”

 

And at that point laughter was the last thing he expected from the kid but then  _she laughed._ “Hah—Sorry,  _I love you too_ , I’m just remembering—

 

“Have you ever noticed how none of the monsters down here scare me? I can usually tell that none of you mean me any harm.

 

“But well, before I left the Ruins, even after I met Flowey,  _I was terrified of you_.”

 

He couldn’t answer to that and when he didn’t, she smiled knowingly at him in a way that unnerved him. “You don’t look surprised.”  
  
He felt like he should apologize. “frisk, i—”  
  
She cut him off. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Even inside the Ruins, I had nightmares of killing everyone. I understand it,  _now_. But before, I was just terrified. I thought—I felt like I had to leave but I still stayed with Toriel for over a year, didn’t I? Did you notice that? Did it always take me that long to get out?”  
  
Sans didn’t know what to say. “i think time kind of lost its meaning for me after the first hundred RESETs, kiddo.”

 

“I was afraid that you would kill me on sight,” she said, and it sounded like a very private confession. “You probably did, didn’t you?”  
  
“uh—”  
  
She squeezed one of his hands with both of hers. “I guess it doesn’t matter now. But Sans, when I finally gave in and left the Ruins and I met you, I was  _so scared_. I wasn’t afraid when meeting anyone else but meeting  _you_  I was  _so scared_. And then you did that thing with the whoopee cushion”—she laughed—“and you turned out to be such a nice and funny  _dork_! I loved getting to know you. I  _love_  you. You turned out to be more than I could ever hope for.

 

"You are the greatest friend I've ever had.

 

"Even though—we're not really friends—are we? It hasn't felt that way in a while."

  
He looked reproachfully at her. “we _are_ friends, kiddo.”

 

She stuck her tongue out at him. “ _Fine_. We are friends. But we’re not friends like I’m friends with Papyrus or MonsterKid. Does that make sense?”

 

Sans resisted the urge to roll his eyes and groaned. _Ugh fucking MonsterKid._ “can’t you just _not talk to me_ about that little friend of yours at eight in the freaking morning?”

 

She poked one of his ribs. “What do you _so_ have against MK? I think you would like him—”

 

“ _no_.”

 

“—if you just gave him a chance.”  
  
“ _no_.”

 

“You two and Papyrus are like the only _three_ people I’m really friends with, you’re bound to hang out eventually. Papyrus was talking about inviting him to my ‘surprise’”—he _almost_ forgave her when she actually shifted her body so that her hands could make air quotation marks—“birthday party.”

 

He felt _so much disdain_ for that _MonsterBrat_ and he didn’t know how to control it.  
  
“ _i don’t hang out with children_ ,” he growled, and Frisk scoffed at that.

 

“He’s _one year older than_ _me!_ ”

 

Sans sat up. It wasn’t even nine in the morning, it was _far too early_ for this _shit_.

 

He had the kid _in his bed_ _and at his mercy_ and she wouldn’t stop talking about _this fucking other kid_.  
  
And he was _really_ starting to feel like just _shutting her up with his dick_.

 

“kid, if you start this with me right now this is not going to end well for you.”

 

Frisk rolled her eyes. “I am not ‘starting’ _anything_ —”

 

“you _are_ starting this. you do not just _crawl into a man’s bed_ and start talking to him about this _other boy you like_ —”

 

Her face went as red as ketchup and Sans _really - didn’t - like that._ “I do _not_ like him. Is that what Mom told you!? We’re just friends—”  
  
“i _do not_ want him and you to be ‘friends’,” he told her and she scoffed. “he _clearly_ has other intentions for you. if you think you can be ‘just friends’ with _this fucking kid_ , you are more naïve than i thought you were.”

 

“He _said_ we could be just friends, and I believe him,” she argued. “I’m not about to lose a friend just because you’re _jealous_ —”

 

“ **listen, _little girl_ , that’s enough.** get _off my bed_ and back downstairs before you piss me off into doing something we’ll both regret.”

  
“I’m not going anywhere,” she told him, eyes glaring at him stubbornly as her cheeks flushed. “I’m sick and tired of arguing about MonsterKid, this is _ridiculous_ —”

And then her soul went blue and **he threw her off the fucking bed** —

 

She landed right by his bedroom door and she looked _furious_ and she looked—

 

_Terrified_.

 

And he wanted to just **_slam her into the ground with his magic_** and _fuck the shit out of her_.

 

“ **get out** ,” he told her brusquely and his eye glowed blue.

 

She refused to move but her hands were shaking. “You are _such a jealous asshole_.”

 

“ _Language_ ,” he hissed at her, and he knew that he was being a hypocrite but _she was thirteen_ and he was _not going to be raising a potty mouth_ —

 

_Not that he was raising Frisk—!! **God-fucking-DAMMIT, Toriel!**_

  
And then she crossed her hands over her chest stubbornly and shifted her hips and glared at him, and it was like something suddenly _snapped into place_ in his head and _he knew what was going on_.

 

He knew _exactly what she was doing_.

 

And he wasn’t about to fall for it, _but shit_ —

 

_Shit_ —

 

“you want me to fuck you, don’t you,” he told her, and it was very likely that _she_ _didn’t know_ _that’s what she wanted_ , but all signs pointed that _she did._ He was as enthralled by the sudden opportunity as he was horrified; _this wasn’t supposed to happen_ —

 

She was _pissing him off_ like she had yesterday and she was _taunting_ and she was _vulnerable_ and he had been _so close to fucking her_ yesterday, she had been _so, so turned on for him_ yesterday—

 

He had inadvertently _so rewarded her shitty behavior_ yesterday—

And it was wrong. Whatever he was doing to her was clearly messing with this kid.

 

_She wasn’t supposed to invite him like this._

 

And as soon as he said it, her face went red and she looked _mortified_ and it was very likely, knowing Frisk, that she was temporarily unable to speak.

 

Probably wouldn’t even be able to _scream_ and he sort of wanted to _find out_ —

 

And she  _still wasn’t leaving_  and she was like a deer caught in the headlights and it would be easy— _so easy_ —to just pull her back to him with his magic.

 

It would be _so easy_ to just _give in_ and _fuck her_ , he had been _so wanting to_ , and if she also wanted it—

 

_She wasn’t even fourteen._

 

“kiddo, you need to  **leave**. you have no idea what you are asking for," he told her, and his voice was stern but he was _frantic_ and he was _excited_ and he was _scared and horny and—_

 

And she wasn't going to leave. She was clearly frozen into place, like he was. And she was probably going through the same mixed feelings as he was, wasn't she, the same temptation, the same anxiety... The same horror and fear and _excitement_ because _they both wanted to do it_ , so _who was going to stop them then?_

 

" _shit_ , kid—i don't want— _i shouldn't_ —"and then he screamed at the top of his lungs like he was desperate for someone to save them—" **PAPYRUS!!!!!** "

 

And in less than ten seconds, his brother barged in, spatula in hand and screaming heroic nonsense at an unknown nonexistent aggressor, and the kid's eyes were as wide as saucers as _she threw herself at Papyrus_ , her face was deathly pale and she was shaking and sobbing with fear or adrenaline—

 

She looked like she was _as horrified by her own lust as Sans was_.

 

 

They didn't see much of each other again for a long time.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God. So many comments from you guys!! Thank you SO much! I'll answer them... Tomorrow. (I'm exhausted today, but I wanted to update. You all have been so nice!)

Sans cussed for the third time that hour working by hand on that _fucking graph_.

 

He hated working on paper. Sans really wished he hadn't given his computer to Pap during the last " _nothing matters, fuck science!_ " phase he went through. Sure, Papyrus loved his new computer, but without that machine Sans was—

 

Well, he was pretty much _fucking useless_ as a scientist. Especially when he'd also sacrificed his only working calculator to a prank on Grillby.

It had been so worth it, though, to see Grillby trying to understand how a basket of fries and two bottles of ketchup ended up costing 1,000,000 G according to his calculator. _So_ worth it and so funny, at the time.

 

It was looking significantly less funny now.

 

And now here was Sans, and Sans needed—

 

He _so badly fucking needed_ to figure out if there was a mathematical way to predict the next RESET. He couldn't rest until he knew if it was possible. He'd woken up that morning with the sudden urge to find out if there was a hidden equation somewhere in the data that he could use and—

 

And _fuck_ , so far he wasn't finding one. And _fuck_ , he _missed Frisk_.

 

It was _sick_ and _bizarre_ how he had resorted to keeping his mind off of the kid by instead studying her. _Sicker_ and _more bizarre_ still that he would do so after he'd spent the night fantasizing about having his dick inside _the fucking kid_.

 

He was obsessed with the Anomaly— _with Frisk_. Clearly. But he couldn't find a way to make himself _stop_.

 

And he _knew_ he was grasping at straws here. Living beings were hardly predictable as far as predictable things went. But still, if there was a chance at a way to mathematically predict RESETS— And he was doing a pretty shoddy job, really, as far as being specific went—

 

But fuck it.

 

Oh, she'd lasted six days until the next RESET back in May? Close enough to ten. Fuck it, he did _not_ have a calculator, and he was _a physicist_ for fuck's sake, not a mathematician. Rough estimates would do if it meant it simplified the arithmetic.

 

But anyway, precise or not, the graph was turning out to look _pretty fucking unusable_ and also _a pain in the ass_.

 

And the data in the graph did not turn out to be linear but maybe—

 

Maybe, if he _squinted_ —

 

_Fuck_. It was not _ever_ going to be _goddamn exponential either_.

 

Sans resisted the urge to tear his graph into pieces because _fuck it_ , he'd gotten this far. Might as well finish the stupid thing and hang it on the wall for future reference.

 

Not that hanging it on the wall would matter, once the timeline fucking RESET. It was bound to happen. He was not constantly there with the kid anymore to keep her from whatever fuckery fourteen year-old humans got into when there weren't any grown-ass skeletons around to supervise.

 

And she was fourteen years old now. He still couldn't believe he had gone through with missing the kid's birthday party, _twice_ , in _two separate fucking timelines_. He still felt a pang of guilt when he remembered the pictures Papyrus had shown him afterwards and he saw the kid standing next to the snail cake.

 

The snail cake he had promised to save the kid from, God knew how many timelines ago. But what could he _do_?

 

He had _so badly_ wanted to fuck her that day. You know, as her birthday present— to _him_. 

 

And the kid had looked _so tired_ in those pictures, the first time. _So tired_ and just smiling with a smile that never quite reached her eyes; he wondered if anyone else had noticed. And the _second_ time around—after that first _fucking RESET_ —she had looked _more tired still_.

 

Sans assumed she wasn't sleeping well due to her nightmares. And at first, Sans had felt sympathetic—but then the world RESET again a few weeks after _that_ —

 

And _now_ , he was feeling slightly less sympathetic. _Now_ , he just wanted to find a way to stop, or delay, or even _at the very least_ reliably predict the RESETs.

 

And lately he had been fighting the urge to just _kill her himself_ and get it over with. He was _so fucking tired_ of always being on edge, constantly waiting for and never knowing when there would be another RESET. And wouldn't it be nice, _wouldn't it be a sweet bonus_ , if he forced himself into her _one more time_ before that happened? Wouldn’t it be justified if he _fucked her again before he killed her_ and relieved some of _the goddamn stress_ he felt, _every fucking day now_ , because the kid seemed _incapable_ of _keeping herself_ _the fuck alive_?

 

_He still hadn't found out what it was like to have his come forced down her throat._

 

Not that he hadn't i m a g i n e d it. Multiple times.

 

But _no_. No, he couldn't do that to Frisk— _not again_ —and _still_ the graph wasn't _fucking predictable_ , what a _fucking waste_ of a free afternoon. 

 

The RESETs just happened left and right with little reason other than the fact that _the kid had died_.

 

Could there at least be a way to force her to SAVE more often? She was making him relive almost _entire weeks at a time_. It was _exhausting_.

 

He could probably kill her enough times to find out if he could make the kid accelerate the frequency of the SAVEs. He could also probably _take advantage of the circumstances_ each time. And he _so wanted_ to find out: How many times until killing her got boring? How many times until _the sex_ got boring?

 

It would be a kindness, really, to just fuck her and kill her _over and over_ until he got done with whatever this obsession and lust for her was. Maybe if he stopped being so tempted by her, he could make sure to never steal her innocence again.

 

But then _a chill went down his spine_ whenever he considered the possibility of the kid _remembering_ , in the next timeline, whatever he gave in and did to her. And he wanted to do _so much_ to her—

 

She'd _never_ forgive him.

 

They'd be forced to stop being— _whatever they were_ — because she would _never forgive him_. She would no longer want to be— be _what_? ...be _friends_?

 

_He was not this kid's fucking friend_. He wanted—he _needed_ — _so much more_ from her.

 

And _so did_ _she_ , if their last altercation was proof of anything.

 

Sans still didn't know what might have happened if Papyrus hadn't been home to intervene. If Pap hadn't barged in like that, if he hadn't yelled at Sans to cease whatever prank he suspected Sans was pulling on the kid and _hadn't dragged the crying child away from Sans_ ' bedroom and spent the rest of the morning with the kid—

 

He had been _so close to giving in_ that day. He had been _so tempted_.

 

He had tried _so hard to resist the urge to slam into her again_ and leave her a broken shell _just like he had the last timeline he had killed her_.

 

And if Papyrus hadn't been around, would he have done it? The kid had been— _receptive_. But he could hardly fault her for being curious.

 

Sans was far from a biologist. The squishy sciences had never really interested him as much as math and physics did. But he had gathered enough from human anime, and from his conversations with Toriel, to know that the Frisk he was currently dealing with was probably _a mess of hormones_. 

 

And he had been _so fucking irritated_ when those hormones manifested themselves in the form of irritable moodiness but _he had never expected_ —

 

Not even in his _wildest dreams_ had he ever thought her teenage hormones meant she might _grow to want him_ , too, _the same way that he wanted her_.

 

Or maybe not the same way, not _exactly_. The kid had turned fourteen recently but she was still _fourteen_ , for fucks sakes. She didn't _know_ —

 

She _really didn't know what she had been asking for,_ that time she _roused_ him and _teased_ him and _refused to leave his room_. And Sans was _dying_ to teach her, show her _just what it was she’d been asking for_ , just _what exactly it was that she wanted_ _from Sans._

And he had been _needlessly rough before_ , had been _impatient_ , he had been _so eager to enter her_ in those timelines he'd had her by _force_ but he was sure that,

 

_If she wanted it_ ,

 

If she was going to _remember it_ ,

 

He _could_ be good, he _could_ be patient, he _could_ be _gentle_ —

 

He could be _so good to her_ and she _would_ love it. _She would_ _love fucking him_. She would love _him_.

 

He _so desperately wanted her to love him_ , _really love him_ , not a crush, not some childish infatuation,

 

Not _some innocent puppy love_ he could take as much _advantage_ _of_ as he _already had_.

 

But she was a kid and it was _so unfair_ _of him_ , wasn't it, to want something from her that she couldn't give, something that not even _he_ could give because he loved her, yes, but he was

 

_a sadistic, jealous and controlling asshole_ and she was _barely into her teens_ , she was _essentially a child_ —

 

And _he loved her_ but _did_ he, _really_? Did he love her for _her_ or loved the fact that she _sometimes seemed to remember him_?

 

Did he love her because he was lonely, because he felt _so alone in this mess of timelines_ , or did he really love the way she spoke—

 

Her _quiet voice_ —

 

The way she _smiled_ when she saw him and looked at him like he was the most amazing man in the world to her, like he was _the moon_ and—

 

_God_ , how long it had taken for her to open up to him, and _how worth it the wait had been_. Her pretty laugh and her silly jokes and the way _she loved and accepted him_ and how she _truly_ cared about Sans and Papyrus, and just—

 

_She was just—_

 

She was so good, so kind—she was _too good_ , _too kind_ , _too perfect_ —for _him_.

 

He could be _the world's last living being_ and she would _still not be meant for him_.

 

And she was _such a gentle and merciful soul_ , and he was— _he often tried hard not to think what he was_. He was covered in _blood_ and in _sin_ and in _the rancid bile_ that were his thoughts toward her and in the _loneliness of the fucking timelines_ and the _desperation of the_ _RESETs_ and he was just—

 

_Just a worthless, lonely, desperate and pathetic excuse of a_ _man_ and she—

 

She was just _too good for him_. He was just _not meant for her_.

 

This was all just too depressing.

 

He loved her and he tried _so hard, for her sake, not to love her_.

 

He focused instead on studying again the data he'd gathered about the SAVEs. It was _so tedious and distracting_ and he _needed_ tedious, he needed distracting.

 

He didn't find anything useful and _all his thoughts kept wondering back to her_.

 

 

 

One day he woke up to a blinding pain and his skull being ripped in half. He didn’t know what day it was.

 

His _skull was splitting open_ or at least, that's what it _felt_ like. A rush of memories was forced into him and _he knew at once_ that he had gone through another RESET. Useless memories from a dead timeline were _cramming into his very being_ and it just felt like _he didn't have enough space in his head for them_ , like there _couldn't be any room in his skull for them_ —

 

And so _the space was carved into his mind with a sharp stabbing sensation_ and there was little he could do to reassure himself that at least the carving sensation he felt wasn't real.

 

He was in _so much pain he felt nauseous_.

 

And he could _barely think_ — _how could he!?_ But through _all the pain_ there was the _worry_ because _the kid had clearly died again_ , shit, _shit_ — And _was she okay now_ and why the _fuck_ had she died again—

 

_Frisk! That little fucker—!_

 

Couldn't she just _stay alive_ for more than _five fucking seconds!?_

 

He felt the _guilt_ as soon as his mind snapped at her, and then he felt _worse_.

 

His cellphone light was flashing. The kid had texted him.  
  
Again.

 

He vaguely recalled her having had done so in the last timeline too. Was today his last… Wednesday?

_  
Ugh, he’d fucking hated Wednesday._

 

This had been _the fifth time in_ — he couldn't exactly count them in weeks. This had been _the fifth RESET_ , the kid’s _fifth death_ , since he and the kid had almost fucked. And she hadn’t left Snowdin— _Sans had made sure of that_ —the kid hadn’t left this town, where no one would harm her and everyone knew her. So Sans was beginning to suspect that even _this kid_ couldn't be _this fucking clumsy_. Even _this kid_ couldn't be _so very unlucky_ that she would _die, five times in a month,_ in some _freak accidents_.

 

And it was starting to look like the RESETs _were fucking intentional_.

 

She was probably _killing herself_ and _Sans was furious_.

 

He would have to have a word with _this fucking kid_.

 

 

 

He was still furious when he went to her and yet seeing her again, sleeping soundly under the trees by the lake, felt like running into a part of him that he didn't know he'd been missing— the _best_ _part_.

 

And of course it wasn't like he hadn't seen her around after they'd nearly fucked. It seemed to him like they had both been actively avoiding each other, but Snowdin wasn't _that_ big of a town, their paths were bound to sometimes cross.

 

It's just that every time he had seen her around, in those _very rare_ and stressful times he couldn't avoid being within a few feet of her, Sans had always pretended not to see her and, after a while, she'd stopped trying to get his attention.

 

They hadn't talked since Papyrus dragged her out of his room and Sans had decided to head to Grillby's for an early breakfast. He hadn't called her, hadn't texted her, hadn't tried to contact her in _any_ way or invited her to spend time with him—

 

And still, occasionally, she gave in and texted him, like she had that morning. And it was mostly just inane messages, just meaningless texts that wouldn’t even warrant a reply weren’t for the fact that they were from _her_. And it was still painful to force himself not to text her back, yet he never did reply to her.

 

He hadn’t so much as acknowledged her presence in _weeks_ and it had been _so difficult_.

 

He _still_ had an unheard voicemail from her, saved on his cellphone, from that time she had tried calling him in the middle of the night. He'd never answered her. He’d never opened the message. Yet he hadn’t deleted it either.

 

But now, seeing her was different, different than running into her because he _needed to_ _talk to this kid now_ and she—

 

_God, seeing her just took his breath away._

 

He tied his overwhelming love for her into a little knot deep within his chest. He couldn't feel—couldn't love—shouldn't _so badly want_ —this _kid_.

 

He took a deep breath and thanked his lucky stars that the children who had been previously swimming in the water were finally leaving, but at the same time _he felt frantic_.

 

_He was all alone with her now._

 

They would be able to talk now without being overheard, but—

 

_But now, should he choose to do anything, there was nobody around to stop him anymore, was there?_

 

He took a deep breath.

 

His voice came out _deep_ and _cold_ and he tried hard to focus on _how necessary that was_. "kid, i've got a _bone_ to pick with you."

 

He hated himself when her eyes sprung to life immediately and she looked at him adoringly and quickly got up and ran to him and exclaimed "Sans!!"

 

And he had to _force himself to push her off_ with an effortless wave of blue magic before she got close enough to hug him.

 

" _don't touch me_. this is _not_ a friendly visit, kid," he told her and her face fell.

 

He felt like _such a fucking worthless piece of shit_ and his resolve started to waver.

 

Better make this quick.

 

"the world RESET today," he told her, and he tried hard not to feel for her as she looked at him with a face that said her heart was breaking. "we went back a whole week. i'd sure like to know _why_ , since it's _the fifth time this month_."

 

The kid looked slightly panicky as she suddenly shrugged her shoulders, her eyes focusing on the ground in front of him and her arms wrapping nervously around her chest., And he felt guilty that he was doing this to her but at the same time _was resenting being given the silent treatment_ and—

 

And _great_ , so she was going back to _not talking to him_ just because he was no longer acting like her friend? _Great_. That was _just as well_.

 

_He wouldn't have to listen to her fucking appealing voice this way._

 

 "you don't remember why it happened," he guessed, and when the kid nodded Sans took a frustrated hand to his temple. "of _course_ you don't. you're _still_ not remembering the RESETs?"

 

Frisk shook her head. It was like talking to an eleven year-old Frisk fresh out of the Ruins again.

 

He was _angry_ and _worried_ and—

 

"wanna know what i think, kiddo? i think you've been _purposefully killing yourself_. how likely do you think _that_ might be?"

 

She looked up to him at that and her eyes were wide as saucers. Did she look surprised because she truly _was_ surprised or—?

 

Suddenly he couldn't take the silence and her shyness anymore.

 

"for heaven's sake, kiddo. i know you can speak. talk to me."

 

The kid frantically shook her head and averted her gaze and Sans—

 

Sans felt a frantic and desperate need to hold her close and tie her back to him.

 

Frisk was— she wasn’t comfortable with him— but she was _his kid_ —

_A desperately hidden,_ shameful part of him _really thought of her as his_ kid no matter _how_ _much_ he fought Toriel on it. No matter _how much_ he fought _himself_ because _he still wanted his dick inside of her, didn't he?_ How _sick_ and _disgusting_ was _that_?

 

How _sick_ and _disgusting_ was _he_ that he could love this kid as if she were his own _and still he—_

_He still let his eyes wander down to her chest._

 

She had grown a bit taller since the last time he'd really looked at her, even with the lack of sun. Toriel would be _so relieved_ to learn that the kid was growing. And a certain relief washed over him and a sort of pride welled on his chest, too, but then _he looked at the way the kid's chest had filled out slightly_ , how _her baggy sweater couldn't fully conceal her shape anymore_ _and he—_

 

It had been a while, hadn't it, since he'd _fucked her last_ and _felt up her chest_.

 

He felt the _sick want_ to _see just how much she had grown_ and it was exciting, somehow, to know if he had her now she would be _slightly different_ from before, more mature, _more developed_. And maybe he was just feeling _a morbid curiosity_ , but he—

 

_He couldn't believe he was thinking this rancid shit, as the kid stood heartbroken and tired-looking in front of him._

 

She did something with her hands and although Frisk had once tried to teach him sign language, that had been _so long ago_ that he could only make out the word " _sorry_ ".

 

He took a deep, steadying breath. "kid— just talk. we have spoken _so many times_ before."

 

And then her voice finally came out, and she sounded so quiet and hesitant and _so obviously uncomfortable talking to him_ that he almost went to her and _shook her_ and _hugged her_ and—

 

"I don't think… I've died on purpose. I mean... Maybe. _Sorry_ , if I did. I've just been so tired."

 

And he wanted to be _angry_ because that was _as good a confession as any_. 

 

"kid, if you're having nightmares—"

 

And then she looked at in in a way that _bizarrely resembled_ that time she was twelve and he'd asked her if she was still into Magic Girl Z despite the fact that apparently she hadn’t watched that anime in months _("Oh my god, Sans, no way! Magic Girl Z is for little kids!")._

 

"What? No, I— The nightmares are... I'm used to those. It's Flowey."

 

It was like a thousand sharp knives had suddenly sliced through him. Flowey? The flower?

 

_He had forgotten all about that fucking psychotic flower._

 

And he couldn't think straight for a moment. "kid— _why didn't you_ —" and then he _stopped himself_.

 

He hadn't exactly made himself available for her to tell him about the flower, had he?

 

He felt like— Like he'd _really_ betrayed her. Somehow.

 

And _he couldn't let himself just go to her._

 

"can't you make it stop?" he asked her.

 

And then suddenly she bit her lower lip and her cheeks went scarlet and she looked _just so incredibly guilty_ , and she whispered "I've tried."

 

Sans wrecked his mind trying to figure out _exactly what was going on that she looked like that_ , like she had—

 

Like she had _done something_ , and _fuck_ — Had she _killed anyone, the fucking kid, because he'd—_

 

She seemed to read his mind because she suddenly blurted out "I haven't— I don't listen to Flowey. I won't do what he wants. It will be fine. _I'll_ be fine. I'm just tired."

 

And he was _so, so suspicious of her_ but he _dropped_ it, for now.

 

_He knew how to RESET the timeline if she fucked up anyhow._

 

And he just wanted to _leave_ suddenly before he _did something_ , before _they_ did something, because he _so badly missed her and he—_

 

She caught him looking for an exit and read his mind accurately enough that she knew that he wanted to get away from her.

 

"Um. _Wow_. Do you really hate me _that_ much?"

 

A pang of guilt and he whispered. "i don't hate you, kid."

 

"Really? Because you hadn't even spoken _two words_ to me since you"—she blushed a deep shade of red—“ _Um_. Since we last spoke like two months ago. And now you’re suddenly here talking to me and all you care about is that I don’t RESET?"

 

“it’s not just that—”

  
  
Her voice broke. “Yeah, I guess you’re also worried that I might _hug_ you. I’ve _missed you_ , _you asshole. I—_

 

_God, you’re such a jerk—_ “

  
  
He took a shortcut out of there like a coward before her crying got seared into his brain.

  
  
And he _knew_ that he’d fucked up, he _knew_ that he’d just left Frisk to another potential RESET, but he didn’t know how to fix it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh, everyone! Pieorange drew a thing, and it is great, and it is HILARIOUS, and it is YOU!: http://i.imgur.com/85VXl2G.jpg Thank you so much for the LOLs, Pieorange! :D

It had been a very long time since Sans had shed tears but _this time_ , for _her_ , he did.  
  
Crying tears was _never_ a good sign for a skeleton. _Bones didn't have tear ducts_. Tears usually meant an emotional manifestation of haywire magic, magic that could barely be controlled and kept in the body, and _this time_ , after having teleported back to his workshop, Sans' magic was _really out of control_.  
  
_The entire fucking workshop went blue and he didn’t know how to stop it._  
  
He was a _mess_. The kid probably _hated him._ Sans had never before felt _so low_ and so _cowardly,_ running away from her in this way.  
  
_And how could he have ever fucking thought that disappearing from the kid’s life was a good idea when she had implicitly told him that she had climbed up a mountain to_ **die** when she was lonely and ten.  
  
Sans felt like a _complete and utter failure_ as a friend, as a guardian—  
  
As— _whatever on Earth he was to Frisk_ —  
  
And when he let himself fall to the floor and he _sobbed_ , at first, _he was sobbing for Frisk_. He cried for the lonely girl he had left. But then, as things usually went when his emotions spiraled too deep and out of control, when he indulged too much in his self-pity, he started _sobbing for_ _other things as well_ , for _other_ timelines—  
  
_For Gaster_ , who was gone and was no longer remembered by anyone but him.  
  
_For whom he assumed had been his friends and coworkers_ , the people in his pictures who had vanished too and whom he couldn't for the life of him now remember, despite his desperate attempts not to forget.  
  
_For himself_ , because he really should have been absorbed by the timespace too—but instead he had been left behind and was so lonely instead, trapped in this horrible world of conscious RESETs—  
  
_And he cried for the four fucking children who had died by his hand over and over_ and whose deaths _he hadn't dared pity or regret—And for whomever fucking else he had killed and no longer remembered,_ because his LOVE was _too high for just four lives,_ it was _simply too high for just four_ but _he—couldn’t—_ **remember** —  
  
And _god, what a fucking miserable existence_. He _hoped to god_ that Frisk never did remember anything, because she would _only suffer, too_ , and she _didn’t deserve this_. He had been _so selfish_ to want her to descend with him into this pitiful hell of RESETs in the hopeful desperation of no longer being alone, of having _anyone_ suffering with him in _the same way_ as he did—  
  
And _of course_ it didn't matter because, if she hadn't hated him before, _she certainly did now_.  
  
Nothing mattered, in the end. No matter how hard he tried, not even _without a fucking RESET to erase it all_ , nothing— _mattered_ —  
  
And so he _didn't—fucking—try_.  
  
The broken machine he had stored here whirred to life with his magic but Sans paid no mind to it, it didn’t work anyway.  
  
_Nothing Sans ever did seemed to work._ Nothing Sans _ever did_ was a success.  
  
He thought with bitterness that he should have at least told Frisk how he felt about her, before she hated him.  
  
His love was _dirty_ and _gross_ and _worthless_ and _pitiful_ but it was _still_ a _sort of love_ , and he felt it _for_ _her_.  
  
He felt _so bad for everything he'd done to her_ and still he felt like _he_ _couldn't win_.  
  
There was no right thing to do in this scenario. Either he continued to avoid her and _abandon a lonely child_ to the mercy of a _sick, psychotic flower_ or he could _crawl back to her_ and go back to having the kid under _his_ fucked up version of _mercy—if she still even wanted him_.  
  
And frankly, he didn't know which one was _worse_ for Frisk. On one hand, she had _died five times_ in the mere months he’d stayed away from her. On the other hand—he had _tortured_ and _murdered_ her _hundreds of times_ more than _that_ and had _even_ _raped the kid twice_.  
  
And he _knew_ he had been _fantasizing about doing that again_. He _knew_ he was _going to_ , eventually— if he only found an _excuse_.  
  
An excuse like the fact that _there was still so much he didn't know about the SAVEs and the RESETs_. So many things he could research and experiment, and most of the research he had tentatively considered _involved killing Frisk_.  
  
And _how sick was he_ , that killing Frisk was now essentially intertwined with raping Frisk. There was _no way_ he would miss an opportunity of doing that again, if an opportunity was presented to him. She had felt _so good, so unbelievably good_ , when he was inside of her, and he knew he’d felt so _low_ and _guilty_ afterwards but still _he really, really wanted to feel her wrapped tightly around his cock again_.  
  
And so remaining alone and at the hands of _that fucking flower_ was the best option for Frisk. _Clearly_.  
  
And what did it say about _him_ that even _he_ , through all his lust and his obsession, agreed with _that_?  
  
But still, when Frisk had seen him— There was _still love for him in her_ , Sans knew it, and he was _so afraid to snuff it out_. So _reluctant_. He was _so selfish_.  
  
He should have just _told her how he felt_ , even if she was never going to want to see him again.  
  
He should have just _told her how he felt about her_ because he had _nothing to lose_ — _but she did_.  
  
She did have the world to lose and so he _should not_ , _ever_ , _be alone with that kid again_.  
  
And so his workshop stayed blue and he hid from the world and he _hated himself_.  
  
  
  
Then night came, and he knew he couldn't go through with it.  
  
He couldn't just let Frisk _stay_ _alone with that fucking flower_.  
  
And so he focused his magic and he found her just outside of Grillby's. He left the workshop he had been miserable in.  
  
He found her and she had just been standing there when he approached.  
  
She looked like she had been waiting for someone.  
  
"frisk," he called her, and he couldn't help but notice how her eyes went as wide as saucers and came to life when she saw him. She blushed.  
  
_He so loved it when she blushed._  
  
"Sans? What are you—"  
  
He cut her off. " _like i could ever really let you spend the night alone with that psycho flower_. kid, do you want to stay at my place?"  
  
The kid hesitated. Her blush deepened. "Um."  
  
"we can both crash on the couch. look, i'm sorry. i'm sorry i disappeared like that. kiddo, i—"  
  
"Sans," she looked _mortified_. "Sans, _I'd love to_ , but I— I'm waiting for a friend right now."  
  
And he was startled for the longest moment before _bitterness_ and _jealousy_ spewed out of him at once and _he knew, he knew why she had looked so fucking guilty before by the fucking lake_.  
  
"Monsterkid," he said, lights leaving his eye sockets, and his tone carried _so much accusation_ that she shifted uncomfortably where she stood.  
  
And Sans _hadn't expected_ — _for Frisk to be such a fucking whore_.  
  
He _almost told her so_.  
  
"It's not what you think," she quickly told him, and now Sans was _pretty fucking sure it was exactly what he thinks_. "We just— I fell asleep watching a movie with him the other day, and Flowey didn't come, and I thought—"  
  
"you thought you could use him like you used me, right, now that you can’t _crawl_ into _my_ bed?"  
  
Her cheeks flushed scarlet. " _No!_ It isn't _like that_."  
  
"no, i get it," he said, and it was _pretty fucking funny_ how in control he was of his magic as he _made the world around them suddenly stop_. Time-stopping was _such a neat and convenient trick_. "and here i was still feeling _guilty_ that we'd almost fucked whatever timelines ago that was. but really, _i should have just done it_ , because _you'd fuck anyone, won't you?_ "  
  
She gave a loud _shriek_ as he suddenly appeared _right in front of her_ and took his hands to her shoulders and _pushed_. Suddenly, they weren't in front of Grillby's anymore— they were _in her hiding spot_ _and the kid fell to the ground_. Sans hoped that it _hurt_ , Sans _hoped that it really fucking hurt_ , because he _would make her remember—_  
  
_He would make her remember everything he’d done to her here even if he had to pound the memories into her._  
  
And maybe he was digging his grave but at that moment, he _didn't care_. He got on top of her and _held her down by the neck_ , just like _he'd always wanted_ —  
  
He was going to be _rough_ and _cruel_ and _bad_ _just like he'd always wanted_ —  
  
And of course the kid grabbed at his hand currently holding her down by the throat, and it was _hilarious_ , because she was _so weak_ , she had always been _so fucking unimpressive_ and there was _no way that she could stop him from literally fucking her to death_.  
  
Sans couldn’t help it then. He _laughed as he squeezed her throat_ , it was _so funny_ how easy it all could be. "you know, if you struggle, that's all the more fun for me."  
  
And then she _stopped_ _moving_ _pretty much immediately_ and Sans couldn’t help but laugh harder. This was— _really fucking funny_. _Another fucking death at his hands_ and this time hell if he wasn’t g o i n g  t o  _e n j o y  i t_. He was so angry, so _jealous_ — He was _so sick of always being the fucking murderer_ but he was going to _teach this little kid_ just _what exactly it was that LOVE could do_ — __  
  
He let go of her neck and pinned her hands down to the sides of her head with both of his. "you’re going to die. so, confession time: _how many times have you done this with your little friend_ , kiddo?"  
  
" _What—!?_ Sans— _I haven’t_ — Please, _please just let me go_ — You don’t have to do this, just _please, please_ —"  
  
And then she started crying, and it was clear he’d gone too far over nothing, and _what was he doing_?  
  
Was he _really_ going to do this shit, _again, to a fucking kid_? Did he _really_ have a right to get this _angry_ and _jealous_ over _a fucking kid_?  
  
He loosened his grip on her hands and her cries slowed down somewhat _but he didn't let go_.  
  
"why even meet with him?" he asked her, and he sounded so _frustrated_ even to his own ear drums. "you _know_ how i feel about you with him. kid, no matter when i found out— this was _bound_ to happen, so _why_ —"  
  
"You weren't around," Frisk said, and through the tears she sounded _angry_ and _accusing_ and— "And _Papyrus lives with you_ , I couldn’t stay with him. MK— _He's the only friend I have left_ , and he _offered_ , and _Flowey_ — _I just needed one night away from Flowey, okay!?_ "  
  
And she looked so _angry_ , so _defensive_ and _pathetic_ and _pissed_ , that Sans almost lost his nerve and rolled off of her but instead his grip on her tightened again and he cussed—  
  
" _fuck_ — _!_ "  
  
_And then he kissed her._  
  
Her lips tasted salty from her tears but they felt _so soft_ against his magic that he would have forgiven her even if she hadn't managed to push her knee against him. Would have forgiven her even if he hadn't _let go of her when she kneed him_ only for her to use her freed hands to _pull him back by the front of his coat_ and kissed _him_.  
  
And he couldn’t believe it. _She felt so good_.  
  
"You are _such_ a jealous asshole," she told him and _again_ with the language, who had even taught her such a word? He _rarely cursed_ in front of her and Papyrus— “You’re a _real monster_ , do you know that? I wish I could _hate_ you, you _jerk_ , but you—”  
  
He shut her up with his tongue down her throat. And _god_ , this time _she actually responded_ , each time was _just a little bit different with her_ and she— _her mouth tasted amazing_ _and she wrapped her hands around his neck_ , pulling him _to her and_ —  
  
_This felt completely unbelievable._  
  
He felt his hands wander down to her hips, leaving thick trails of magic down every bit of skin he could touch. He was _so wanting her_. And then she started squirming under him, and her breathing got heavy—and _when he pulled his tongue away from her_ _she moaned his name against his mouth_ — _he wanted to see how hard she might want it_ —and she owed him, didn’t she, for what she’d tried to do with her little friend—  
  
He had to _teach her a lesson_ —  
  
This had to _hurt her_ , and he might eventually allow her to enjoy it but _at first_ _this had to hurt_ —  
  
_This had to_ **stop** _._  
  
He pulled himself away from her and had to actually _hold her back by the wrists_ when she attempted to _pull him back_ to her again. " _stop, stop_ — i don't want to— _mess things up_ — i'm happy, kid, i'm _really happy_ with this but i'm _still angry_ and—"  
  
And he _really_ didn't want to discontinue another timeline _but he wanted to punish her and fuck her brains out_ _and he—_  
  
And he was _weak_. He tried looking for an _excuse_. "what do you want out of this? how far do you want to go?"  
  
She looked at him with such confusion that he _knew at once he shouldn't have asked a question like that to a fucking teenager_.  
  
"Like, if I want to— date? I don't know. I never really thought we would get this far," she admitted, and of course _she fucking hadn't_.  
  
He pressed his forehead against hers and let out a small groan _, he felt so frustrated_. " _no, little girl_. i'm asking you if you want to fuck."  
  
She flushed a deep scarlet and her eyes went wide. " _Oh_. Um—"  
  
And the answer was _no_ , it was clearly _no_ , and _he couldn’t believe he would have to actually help her spell it out._  
  
He felt like he was cockblocking _himself_.  
  
"this is the part where you say no," he told her, and it   _r e a l l y  took a lot of effort_ to have told her. "because kid, i'm _really close_ — and you _don't want to_ , trust me, not like _this_ — _not like i want to right now_ and certainly not in _here_."  
  
And it was like the kid suddenly realized that she was being pinned against cold, damp rock. She took in her surroundings and the want she had previously shown for him visibly diminished somewhat, but she didn’t tell him not to—not right away—  
  
He was getting frantic. " _for the love of asgore-fucking-dreemur_ , _little girl, tell me to stop or you’re getting a dick inside of you right-fucking-now_."  
  
And perhaps it was the combined effect of his swearing and his angry desperation but _finally_ she tensed up and shrieked "Okay!!! Stop!!" And that was _the last push he needed_ to finally _roll off of her_.  
  
He took several deep, steadying breaths. He was _so horny_ and _so angry_ but he _needed this kid to remember this_ , he _needed_ her to—  
  
_He wanted her to remember she'd kissed him back this time, twice_. That she’d _pulled_ him to her.  
  
That _he'd_ _been_ _good_.  
  
That he _hadn't_ — _forced_ _her_ , like _last_ time.  
  
Even though he was _still pretty fucking pissed about her goddamn little friend_.  
  
"so you're staying the night at my place, right?" he asked her, and he couldn't contain the hint of _possessive jealousy_. "not in my bed. but we can crash on the couch."  
  
She sat up at that. "Shit! I forgot about Monsterkid!"  
  
"kid, please don't swear," Sans told her through gritted teeth, taking a hand to cover his eye sockets in an effort to not obsess over how _appealing_ she still looked. And he was a hypocrite, but— "your mother would never forgive me if i raised you into a potty mouth."  
  
There was a silent pause and then when he checked on her she was staring at him, eyes wide with horror and disgust. Sans groaned and took _both of his hands_ to cover his face. "yeah, that _sounded fucking wrong_ to me, too. _shit_. just don't cuss, kiddo. you’re fourteen."  
  
"I think— I think you should probably stop talking now,” Frisk told him, and if she sounded uncomfortable, _so-did-fucking-he_. “Can you just take me back to Grillby's? I need to talk to MK. I'm not sleeping over at his place, but he's probably so worried—"  
  
Sans laughed. "kid, i stopped time _ages_ ago. nobody's waiting for you."  
  
"Um— What!?"  
  
"i didn't want us to be overheard, i was going to— just, ah— never mind, i can take you back," he said, and he offered her a hand and, out of habit, winked. "i know a shortcut."  
  
She took her hand and Sans squeezed it. Her hand was so soft, he felt possessive of it and of her, and so he said, while at the cave, “oh, and kid—"  
  
—and suddenly, they were standing in front of Grillby's, and it was night and there weren't many monsters out but Sans _noticed_ the _wonder_ in the kid's face when she finally noticed that _the entire world had been_ _frozen in time by his magic_ , he had _impressed_ her. He pulled her into a hug and kissed her soft lips _one last time_ before the world moved again and he continued. "and kid, _say goodbye to monsterkid_ tonight, because you aren't seeing him anymore."  
  
She got upset with him at that and tried to push him away as she indignantly said "He's my _friend_!"  
  
" _maybe_ ," Sans admitted, voice casual and light, and he _held her in place_. He leaned down to kiss her neck and after doing so moved his grinning mouth to her ear. "B u t  y o u ' r e  m i n e ."  
  
And then suddenly he was standing feet away from her again and the world had started moving. He loved the pretty blush that colored her face. And maybe he was being irrational and maybe he was being possessive—but he didn’t care. He grinned at her and would have waved had his hands not been deep inside his pockets. "see you soon, kiddo. i’ll go tell pap to expect a visitor."  
  
And he left her to say goodbye to _her fucking friend_ and he wondered what terrible anime they could watch together. _Not in his room_ , but on the couch.  
  
On the couch, out in the living room, they should be fine. And it wasn’t like _now_ he couldn’t touch her,  
  
_Or k i s s her._  
  
And Sans was pleased—he was _very pleased_ —by this development.  
  
He couldn't wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God. *bangs head on wall*
> 
> SO WE ALL HERE KNOW WHAT A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP LOOKS LIKE, RIGHT? None of us are feeling tempted to go out there and get a Sans? (Or even worse a Frisk, dear God please no.) None of you? Good... Good. I can live with myself then.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um, I've noticed a lot of you somehow found out about this (good job!? :D), but I thought I'd officially write in here that I started a sort of companion piece for this. It's a compilation of very short stories/drabbles based on Creep but from Frisk's point of view, in case anyone wants some depression to go along with their horror at watching this train wreck unfold. So, if anyone wants to check it out, "Like a Feather" can be found here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6069211/chapters/13911403 And, uh, it might get horribly depressing.
> 
> ALSO I JUST HAVE TO SAY: Nectarine Girl is basically the anime Peach Girl, which is the worst anime I've seen AND YET somehow my guilty pleasure (I've seen it twice). There I said it.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments, kudos and support/encouragement through this terrible writing adventure! xD

He settled on watching Nectarine Girl with Frisk and Papyrus after a very long and annoying text chat with Alphys. That choice proved to be a huge mistake.  
  
The kid turned out to  _love_  this…  _insufferable anime_.  
  
She couldn’t be pulled away from it.  
  
And of course Papyrus loved it too. Sans was in hell. This was complete hell.  
  
It was the worst animation and the worst voice acting and the silliest plot Sans had ever seen, and he had seen some terrible animes.  
  
And yet, despite the terrible anime, Sans felt pretty content. Papyrus hadn't given Sans much grief for only just  _now_  inviting the kid over after spendingweeks apart ("I AM GLAD YOU TWO FINALLY SETTLED YOUR DIFFERENCES, BROTHER! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, KNEW YOU TWO COULD BECOME CLOSE FRIENDS AGAIN!!"). And Frisk— he hadn't had to  _actually go and drag the kid here_ , like Sans had been prepared to do. The kid had gone up to his house _all on her own_  and she had looked so  _miserable_  when he answered the door that Sans knew at once she'd said  _goodbye to her stupid little friend, finally_ — she was  _his_.

And now the kid was  _sitting on his lap_. His arm held her to him by the waist.

 

And things could be better. Papyrus could be gone and he could be inside of Frisk. But this was pretty good, too. This was just fine.

  
This was all he _should_   _have_ , really. Just a nice time with Frisk and Papyrus. No time alone with Frisk. No sex. Not even the remote chance of  _screwing things up_  ( _heh_ ) with sex.  
  
No irrational jealousy over  _fucking Monsterkid_  because that stupid armless brat was  _out of the picture, finally_.  
  
“alright, papyrus, it’s your bedtime,” Sans said after the fifth terrible episode of Nectarine Girl ended. Holy crap, what complete garbage that anime was. He was  _so done_.  
  
Papyrus and Frisk both protested pretty much immediately.   
  
“What!? Noooo!”  
  
“BUT I WANT TO WATCH THE NEXT EPISODE, BROTHER!”  
  
“Come on, Sans! Just the last one?”  
  
“I’M NOT EVEN TIRED!” followed by a poorly-timed yawn.  
  
Sans couldn’t help but chuckle at them both. Junkies. “it’s wednesday, pap, that means work tomorrow. you have be up bright an early. unless you’d rather sleep in and not cook breakfast…”  
  
Frisk’s eyes lit up at that, but her hope was short-lived. Papyrus pretty much immediately rejected the idea. “BUT I MUST COOK BREAKFAST TOMORROW! THIS IS THE FIRST TIME THAT THE HUMAN HAS SLEPT OVER IN WEEKS! SHE MUST BE CRAVING MY BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI! NYEH HEH HEH!”  
  
Sans had to stifle a sincere laugh when he saw Frisk’s face falling at that.  
  
Then Papyrus ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth and as soon as the bathroom door closed—  
  
_Sans  
  
jumped  
  
on  
  
Frisk.  
  
_ He threw her off his lap and pinned her to the couch, pressing himself firmly against her. His mouth was instantly on hers— harsh and desperate flutters of his magic pressed against her lips. And he had been  _so waiting_   _for this_ , he had been  _so wanting this moment_ — and then, after a short pause, Frisk  _responded_ —  
  
_Her lips moved against his magic_ and Sans was in  _heaven_.  
  
He felt a need to touch every single inch of her skin and so  _he moved his hands under her shirt_  and  _rubbed his magic into her skin_  and there was no resistance from her, no grief—  
  
Only the smallest,  _tiniest_  hint of _guilt_ —  
  
And  _this wasn’t sex_. And  _she loved him_. And Papyrus was bound to come out of the bathroom soon and stop them from getting too far and he—  
  
_He grinded his pelvis against her hips._  
  
_He shoved his tongue down the kid’s throat.  
  
_ And she was so eager to respond to him,  _she was probably so wet and ready for him_. He wanted to _keep going_ , he wanted to _force his cock inside of her_ and wouldn’t it be nice, wouldn’t it be _perfect_ , if _this time_ he _didn’t have to force anything at all_?  
  
The bathroom door opened and Sans suddenly teleported himself upstairs.  
  
“you ready, pap?” he winked, grinning wide as he tried hard to control his breathing.  
  
And perhaps it hadn’t been such a good idea, to have the kid crash on the couch.  
  
  
  
He caught her watching the next episode of Nectarine Girl by herself when he finally came downstairs. She looked very tired, but completely engrossed by whatever stupid thing the nectarine girl was saying.

  
“no way, kid,” he told her, taking away the remote and stopping the anime despite Frisk’s loud complaints. “my brother would  _kill_  me if he found out i let you keep watching this show without him.”  
  
She begged him. “But it’s so good! Just let me finish this one, Sans? Pleeease?”  
  
The lights left his eye sockets and  _she froze_. “not a chance in hell, kid.”  
  
And then he _winked_. He _grinned_. “that anime is pretty terrible.”  
  
Frisk threw the sofa pillow at him. “Jesus Christ, that scared the bejesus out of me. You are  _such a prat_ , Sans.”  
  
He sat next to her with the remote and kissed her forehead before he started flipping through the tv channels. “this ‘prat’ loves you.”  
  
He didn’t have to look at her to know that she was blushing. He didn’t have to look at her to feel her arms around his torso and her face burying into his coat.   
  
He wrapped his free arm around her.  
  
This felt good. This felt unbelievably good.  
  
Just being with Frisk felt amazing.  
  
“you know, i don’t think we’ve ever done this,” he told her.  
  
She removed her face from his coat. “Hm?”  
  
“ _this_. just _being with you_ , after i kiss you. it’s—nice.”  
  
“You haven’t kissed me before,” she told him, and then she groaned and took the remote away from him when he left the tv on for too long on a cheesy comedy show Sans sometimes watched, but Frisk absolutely hated.  
  
Sans laughed at that. “ _comedy hater_. and actually, i’ve kissed you twice before.”  
  
Her hand stopped for the slightest second before she resumed flipping through the channels on tv. “You never told me that. What happened?”  
  
He paused. “do you want me to be honest?”  
  
She couldn’t find anything that she would rather watch, so she changed the tv back to the cheesy comedy show. Sans appreciated it. He appreciated it even more when  _she_  was honest and said, voice _strained_ and _exceptionally_ quiet—“No”.  
  
He knew at once she had had nightmares about him raping her.  
  
So he lied to her, and perhaps it was because she had requested him to. “just more RESETs,” he told her, and it was surprising how light and calm he was, all things considered. But he had always suspected she might dream about it, hadn’t he?  
  
_Why wasn’t she more afraid?  
_  
“then you forgot and i just—i wasn’t exactly bold enough to do it again.”  
  
“That sucks,” she told him, and _she didn’t question him_ , d _idn’t even look at him_. And then she lifted her head from his coat and just sat next to Sans. She gave him back the remote. “And so does this show. I’d rather watch Nectarine Girl.”  
  
_He loved the desperate way she needed him_ even if he sometimes worried it surpassed the way _he needed her_.  
  
“forgive me for not enjoying all the _teenage drama_ that you and pap seem to crave,” Sans teased. “this is the last time, by the way, that i take anime recommendations from alphys.”  
  
“Your friend recommended this? It’s a pretty good show. You know, sometimes, I think I’d like this Alphys monster. Papyrus does seem to like her,” Frisk told him, and when he moved to study her face he caught the rolling her eyes when the Temmie on tv told the Aaron that  _time was nigh_. In Frisk’s defense, the show was pretty terrible; in Sans’ defense, it was so bad that it was _terribly_ good.  
  
“papyrus also worships undyne, and she patrols half the underground with a thirst for human souls,” Sans told the kid. She snorted.  
  
“True.”  
  
It wasn’t long before Sans started playing with the kid’s hair and she closed her eyes.  
  
She really _was_ tired. Poor kid.  
  
She fell asleep before the comedy show ended. It wasn’t even 9 PM.   
  
Her head was on his lap and Sans felt— _tempted_.  
  
But _he didn’t do anything_.  
  
  
  
Sans had never dated someone seriously and he certainly had never woken up with an awful pain on his neck after falling asleep sitting up with his girlfriend’s head still on his lap.  
  
Not that Frisk was his  _girlfriend_ — _!_  He hadn’t exactly _asked_ her. Not that he _should_ _ever ask_.  
  
And  _what was he even doing_ , thinking of the kid this way. He was  _sick_. They couldn’t possibly  _ever_  be—  
  
Although last night they had certainly  _acted_  like—  
  
This wasn’t  _right_.  _What was he doing?_ He felt the sudden urge to discontinue the timeline.  
  
He got those urges a  _lot_  lately. It was a pretty addicting feeling, to have at least some degree of control over the RESETs. Not that he ever _would_ — not that he ever seriously considered actually _doing_ _it_ — _without a good enough reason_.  
  
Sans felt like a terrible boyfriend for thinking of using the Anomaly in this way and felt like an even more terrible person for considering himself _this_ **kid’s** boyfriend.  
  
He didn’t register the loud noises coming from the kitchen at first. He had irrationally assumed those sounds, too, were coming from his crowded head. But then Papyrus greeted him,  
  
“GOOD MORNING, SANS! NICE TO SEE YOU UP SO EARLY! MAYBE YOU CAN HELP ME PREPARE BREAKFAST FOR US AND THE HUMAN?”  
  
And Sans knew that he and Frisk were no longer alone, and he regretted that he hadn't simply just pretended to still be sleeping.  
  


"uh... morning, bro."  
  
"SANS, DON'T JUST SIT THERE! I COULD USE SOME HELP, YOU LAZY BONES!"  
  
"i would, pap, but the human is borrowing my lap at the moment," he grinned.  
  
Papyrus gave a loud scream of frustration. Sans was actually surprised he hadn’t woken up Frisk. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU! PLANNING FOR THE HUMAN TO SLEEP ON YOU JUST SO THAT YOU'D HAVE AN EXCUSE NOT TO GET UP THE NEXT MORNING! SANS, YOU LAZYBONES— YOU'RE MADE OF _BONE_ , THAT MUST BE REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE FOR HER. JUST GIVE THE HUMAN A PILLOW."  
  
Sans gave an apologetic grin. "i'll try to remember that next time, _cushion_ case it happens again."  
  
"SANS THAT DIDN'T EVEN SOUND LIKE A PUN."  
  
"but you're still smiling, pap."  
  
"AND I HATE IT."  
  
There were a few more minutes of loud racket as Papyrus kept noisily preparing his infamous breakfast pasta and Sans stroked the kid's hair. She looked so peaceful, he would hate having to wake her up. Maybe he could skip work today. Undyne would kill him if she found out, but Asgore _did_ owe him quite a few bloodied bones... And he didn’t especially like pulling the "I murdered four human children for you so cut me some slack as I slack off as a Sentry for your Royal Guard, King Asgore" card, but Frisk had looked _so bone tired_ yesterday... He really wanted to just let her sleep.  
  
 _He_ _loved this kid so much_.  
  
And so he didn't go to work that day, despite Papyrus' protests. He remained sitting there and he watched tv and he stroked the kid's hair instead and it was _nice_ , it was all _so nice_.  
  
It reminded Sans of when Frisk was a child and _she still looked like a child_ and he cared about her, _truly cared_ , and his care was untainted by his lust and his want.  
  
But he had _so much lust in him_ for her now. _So much want_.  
  
He _so often wished_ that he _didn't_.  
  
And so he sat on the couch and he let her sleep on his lap until he got so hungry that he actually had to bring Pap's awful breakfast spaghetti to him with blue magic and _ugh_ , it was _completely inedible_ , this kid _owed him so much_. This kid was going to have to let him cook a real breakfast for her when she woke up.  
  
And then finally the kid woke up sometime around noon while Sans was suffering through Mettatton's daily talk show because there was not much else to watch so early in the day.  
  
He knew she was awake as soon as she stirred. "morning, sweetheart."  
  
"Sans?”—the kid frowned—“Why are you—? Where's Papyrus? What time is it?"  
  
"few minutes after noon," he told her, and he brushed a few loose tendrils of hair out of her face. He loved stroking her hair. "sleep well?"  
  
She sat up. "Sans! But— It’s Thursday! You're missing work. Why are you _here_?"  
  
He grinned and shrugged. "you were sleeping on me"  
  
"Oh my god, I’m sorry! But _Sans_ , I'm not sick," she told him, and Sans smiled—he did always take the day off when either Frisk or Papyrus got sick because _someone_ had to take care of them—"I can't believe I made you skip work."  
  
"sleep is important," he reassured her, and his voice was light, but he was working rather hard to _resist pulling her back to him_. "d'you want breakfast?"  
  
"Um, sure," she said. "Give me like ten minutes and we can go to Grillby's?  
  
Sans laughed. "i'll give you ten minutes, but i am making you breakfast."  
  
The kid's eyes widened at that. "You're cooking again? This is the second time since I've met you," she said, and after some consideration, added, "Should I worry you might overexert yourself?"  
  
He grinned and kissed her cheek and that shut her up when her face flushed pink. "i can do a skele- _ton_ of things. i just choose not to."  
  
And then he teleported to the kitchen and threw away the leftover spaghetti and, after a minute of silence from the living room, Frisk's voice came up from upstairs.  
  
"So I have clean pants but can I borrow a shirt? All of mine need to go in the laundry."  
  
And Sans almost suggested that _she just stay topless_. But instead he said, "sure".  
  
She lasted almost exactly ten minutes getting ready and dressed. Sans was in the process of making the world's most impromptu pancakes with the flour leftover from Pap's failed attempt at water sausage 'meat'balls.  
  
"Whoa, it smells good," she said as she walked into the kitchen. Sans gave her a shit-eating grin; the kid sounded _impressed_. "Can I help?"  
  
Sans snorted. "sure, set the table," he said, and then he waved his hand towards the kitchen and made _sure_ his blue magic set the table _for_ them. " _whoops_. i guess i don't need any help, then."  
  
She raised an eyebrow and said, "Show off," but she was clearly suppressing a smile. Sans laughed before winking at her.  
  
"you can just think of what it is you want to do today, kiddo. i have _the entire day for you_. we could go to hotland, or to the lake. or we could stay in here, watch more of that anime you like—or we could— _go upstairs_ —"  
  
He felt guilty for even suggesting it. He had told himself he wouldn’t.  
  
She didn't quite catch his guilt.  
  
He served her four pancakes even though at Grillby's the most she ever ate was three. The kid looked through the fridge.  
  
"So I know I haven't really had breakfast here in months but did you throw away my bottle of syrup?"  
  
Sans felt his face turn blue before he could regain control his magic. "i, uh, drank it."  
  
Frisk snorted. "Figures. Can I have some of yours?"  
  
"'course, kid."  
  
"Thanks," she said and she gave him a bottle of syrup before sitting down with him at the table. "You know, this looks unbelievable coming from you. Thank you. I should cook for you sometime."  
  
Sans snorted in disbelief. "you were _ten_ when you fell down here and i know for a fact that t never let you do anything more elaborate in the kitchen than helping her bake pie. what would you cook, kiddo? _cereal_?"  
  
The kid rolled her eyes. "I made breakfast and dinner for mom and me _all the time_ at the Surface. And my own lunch. I can survive on my own."  
  
"ah, kid. that just sounds like such a depressing thing for a kid to have to do. never feed me, ok?" Sans told her, and then he thought up a particularly lewd joke and grinned. "unless you're feeding me your—" He _froze_ when he caught himself, _horrified_.  
  
"—your… _cat_." _Shitshitshitshit that wasn't even marginally different or even remotely better than the word pussy.  
  
_ She frowned at him. "Feed you my _cat_? Are you okay?"  
  
Sans gulped down his syrup. "i'm fine. but i should probably never fall asleep watching bad tv again."  
  
"Sorry about that," Frisk said and she gave him a shy smile. As predicted, she didn't quite finish her four pancakes. Sans stole the last one from her plate.  
  
"So is this it?" Frisk randomly asked him, and Sans couldn't help but feel offended.  
  
"kid, i just made you pancakes _from scratch_ , if you wanted something else—"  
  
"Oh god, no!" She laughed, blushing. "No, breakfast was perfect! _Thank_ you! I just mean—we kissed yesterday and—you _know_ I like you"—she blushed a pretty red that was almost the color of her soul—"And now things don't really seem to have changed. Are we just going back to normal?"  
  
Sans was paying attention. "do you want to? just go back to normal, i mean."  
  
She looked unsure. “I, um, I don’t know. I’ve never really done this before. Kissed someone, I mean.”  
  
“i have,” he told her, and he was a _grown man_ and had spent most of his life not knowing her, he really _shouldn’t be feeling this guilty_ that he told her. “but it’s never been—it doesn’t _have_ to be—serious, y’know. it doesn’t have to be a big deal.”  
  
She remained quiet for a long time and then said “Oh.”  
  
Sans started to get anxious. This wasn’t going very well. “i mean, _tibia_ honest, i’m still kinda waiting for you to RESET and forget about this. i don’t, um—i don’t usually _do_ relationships.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“i mean—with the RESETs and all,” he explained. He felt like he was digging his own grave with her and he just kept digging trying to climb out. “it’s never been worth it. but, y’know, if you want a fling—for however long this lasts—i wouldn’t be opposed—”  
  
“Um— No. That’s fine. I think I completely misunderstood you yesterday.”  
  
There was a long, awkward silence during which Sans debated whether it would be beneficial to reassure the kid that _he did love her,_ even if the new possibility of starting a relationship with her terrified him. He didn’t want to grow closer to her just to have it erased by another RESET.  
  
And then she groaned.  
  
She buried her face in her hands. “ _God_ , I can’t believe I _gave up a friend_ for this.”  
  
And she was talking about _goddamn Monsterkid_ , clearly.  
  
Sans had messed up. _Again_. Without _even sleeping_ _with_ the kid.  
  
“uh, d’you want to just— we can just keep watching tv.”  
  
She suddenly stood up and glared at him. “ _No_ , _Sans_ , I don’t want to ‘just keep watching tv’, _you are such a fucking asshole_.”  
  
“ _mind the fucking language, kid_ ,” he told her angrily, getting  up from his chair as the kid stormed out of the kitchen and went to grab her backpack. “where do you think _you’re_ going?”  
  
“ _Out_. And away from you,” the kid said, and she _sounded angry, too_. “I have to check on Flowey.”  
  
“ _what!?_ ”  
  
“ _Flowey!_ ” she yelled at him. “He doesn’t let me sleep at night, but if I don’t check on him during the day, he—”  
  
“kid, _what the fuck_. you’re going out to check on that psycho flower? are you _trying_ to make the world RESET? you’re staying _here_ and you’re going to _stop being such a little brat_ so that we can sort this out—”  
  
“Oh, I’m not _done_ with you,” she scoffed, slinging her backpack across her shoulder. “I am _definitely_ coming back and telling you exactly how _you_ can ‘sort this out’. But unlike _you_ , Flowey doesn’t threaten to kill _me_ , so right now I really need _some stupid space so I can check on fucking Flowey_.”  
  
And then she walked out the door and yelled at him one last “ _Asshole!_ ” before she slammed the door and left him steaming in his own disbelief and his rage.  
  
This kid definitely owed him more than one explanation and a _sincere apology_ for _her goddamn disrespect_.  
  
She certainly knew more than she let on about _the fucking RESETs_.  
  
And if she thought she could _lie to his face about the RESETs_ and then _cuss at him_ and _get away with it_ , the kid was severely mistaken.  
  
She was in for a **bad time** when she chose to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Wow, I'm really bad at writing pseudo-relationships.  
>  This is kinda boring.  
>  Well, at least they get to be sort of cute and happy for a while now.  
>  ...aw, shit.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so,
> 
> A few things here.
> 
> This chapter is pretty much 100% awful, horrible smut. The kind that makes you feel bad. The kind from Chapter 11.
> 
> THIS CHAPTER CAN ALSO BE SKIPPED. The plot significantly picks up after this, but THIS part, if it squicks you, CAN BE SKIPPED. You all have my permission to skip. In fact, I encourage you to skip it. This is just- ugh. And ugh. 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING HERE FOR NON-CON. Like, for real.
> 
> A small TL;DR (or, in this case, Too Horrible; Didn't Read) can be found at the end notes. Because seriously, this is just heart wrenching smut, it CAN be skipped, but...*
> 
> (Also, on a happier note: I am super tired, but golly! THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE REVIEWS! I plan to answer y'all by the end of the week.)

She didn't come back until late at night. Even Papyrus got home before she did, and _he'd_ gone to Undyne's house after work.

 

And Sans was _an_ _anxious fucking mess_ , expecting a RESET at any given moment. He ate too much. He got explosively angry over the _stupidest shit_. He spent a lot of time in his room and on his bed and away from Papyrus.

 

But the RESET never came.

 

And then she finally, _finally_ knocked on his door about half an hour after Pap had gone to sleep. Sans was _relieved_ and he was _furious_. And when he opened the door, she still looked like such a bitchy brat—she looked like she was still _so angry at him_ —that he pulled her into the house and _kissed her_ before the kid could open her fucking mouth to fight him.

 

He instead opened her mouth _for_ her with his tongue.

 

"you are _such a fucking disrespectful child_ ," he hissed against her mouth when she angrily tried to push him away. "haven't i taught you some _goddamn manners_ , kid?"

 

And he had—he _really_ had—on those _very rare_ occasions she had been impatient with Papyrus or he'd caught her being rude when she was younger. He wished he didn't remember some of those moments _so clearly now_ while the kid's taste was still in his mouth.

 

Her lips tasted like _guilt_ , but Sans didn't care.

 

He was _so horny_ and _so mad_ —

 

So _desperate_.

 

And so he moved his hands down to her hips and _pulled her to him_. He _kissed her again_ , harsh and anxious magic forcing itself against her mouth, his tongue _every so often_ licking her lips as he began trailing his magic down _every inch of skin he could touch_. He _wanted_ her to want him.

 

He wanted her to _keep crawling back to him no matter what_ , no matter how many times he screwed up, no matter how many RESETs. _She was his endgame_ ; not going back, not reaching the surface, not his research of the RESETs, _nothing else_ —

 

_All he ever wanted_ and _all he could hope for_ was _her_.

 

And then she let out a little whimper that sounded _a lot like a suppressed moan_ and she stopped trying to pull away, and he knew _he had won_.

 

_This fucking kid couldn't ever not want him for long._

 

And perhaps that was because _she needed him_ even more than he needed _her_. Perhaps it was because she was lonely; just a sad little girl who was alone in the world. And it _certainly was wrong that he took advantage of that_ —

 

But Sans was alone too and there was _no one who could want him_ like _her_.

 

And so he teleported them to his room and then _he pushed her to the bed_ and then _he was on top of her_.

 

He warned her once. "if you scream, i'll make damn sure nobody can hear. so be a good girl and stay quiet, okay?"

 

She pushed her hands against his chest. "This doesn't solve _anything_ ," she spat at him. 

 

"maybe not," he conceded, and he pressed a kiss on her neck. "but you _know_ you want this."

 

And then he grinded his pelvis against her hips and shoved a hand under her shirt and _kissed her again_ , kissed her _so hard_ —

 

Her body responded. She _did_ want him.

 

She moved her face away.

 

"Let _go_ of me," she told him angrily, but _her breathing was heavy_ and he could see how deeply her face had flushed. Did she want this the hard way?

 

He could give her that.

 

Or maybe he could give her the complete opposite and see how the Anomaly _fucking liked it_ when things _didn't go_ _her way_.

 

He went softer. Slower. It was almost— _painfully gentle_ —the way he kissed her throat and massaged his magic into her hips, her waist, her chest, her breasts. "you want me to fuck you, kid, just admit it. it would be _so much easier for you_ if you did."

 

She pushed harder against him but he didn’t budge. When it came to strength, _she had always been so fucking unimpressive._ "I don't want—a _stupid fling_."

 

"well get used to it, kid, because _this_ "—he shoved his magic up her shirt and _she gasped_ —" _doesn't mean anything_ "—he licked the soft skin of her neck and her body leaned closer to him—“and i bet you're still _so fucking wet for me_.

 

"how about _i find out_?"

 

And then _he shoved a blue hand down the kid's pants_ and he would have been successful at finding out _just how badly the kid wanted him_ if she hadn't fought him _so hard_.

 

" _Don't!_ " she yelled at him, and she almost pushed him off of her this time, and she wouldn’t _stay still_ —

 

She _did_ want it rough.

 

He slammed her hands against his bed by the wrists. He was _so pissed_ by her rejection that he yelled at her, "you _really_ ought to stop being _such a fucking bitch!_ "

 

And then she started crying. She looked and sounded absolutely miserable under him.

 

There was _no way Papyrus hadn't heard that_.

 

_Shit, shit—_

 

And _so he flicked his wrist_ and his magic went up into the fourth dimension and time _stopped_ ; they were completely _alone_.

 

Now _nothing she did_ could make him _stop_ , and the opportunity both _excited_ and _terrified him_.

 

_He wanted—_

 

"kid— _shit_. _i love you_ ," he said, and he _meant_ it, he _really_ meant it, and he kissed her neck but _he tightened his grip on her wrists_ and she probably knew that _this same scenario_ had happened before, Sans was _sure_ the kid had nightmares about it, she _must know what happened next_. "i _do_ love you, i _want_ you, i just _can't_ — _shit_ — _i just keep getting this all wrong_."

 

He tugged at the waist of the sweatpants she was wearing until he decided _he was too lazy to bother_ and had her entire outfit disappear and then when she found herself suddenly naked she started struggling under him, _trying to get away_ —“Sans, _please_ — _please just stop_ —just _let me_ _go_ —"

 

" _shhh_ , kid—don't start making this into a big deal. i just want sex, it doesn't mean— _i love you_ , but _this doesn't mean_ —i _don't want this to be such a huge thing_ between us—"

 

And he _just_ wanted to get his dick wet. He didn't understand why she had to make such a big deal about it. And it wasn't like she was _truly_ a virgin, not _anymore_ , he'd already had her twice, _why would a third time matter so much to her_ —she was the only one who seemed to mind this so much—

 

Didn't she remember _how much she had liked it_ , the last time?

 

Was he really _that_ alone? Was he really _the only one_ who would ever truly _remember_?

 

He moved his hand down to her exposed entrance and started playing with her clit, and initially she tried to fight him, but then _he saw the way she bit her lip_ , how her hips _stilled for him_ and _let him do what he wanted_. She _did_ want it, wanted it _as badly_ as he did, but she was _so determined_ —

 

So _damn fucking determined_ to make this simple fuck into _more than it was_.

 

"come _on_ , kiddo. just give in. you're just going to RESET in the end anyway. _be a good girl_ — _i love you_ — _be a good girl_ , _just let me_ —" _just let me—_

 

Just let me _what_?

 

_Show_ you?

 

Like _this_?  
  
_Again?_

 

And he knew he was digging his own grave but it just didn't seem like he could be able to _stop_.

  
She started crying _so loudly_ , just _bawling_ —and she _wouldn’t_ _stay_ _still_ —  
  
He used his _bad magic_ on her, the kind _she didn’t like_.

 

It held her down by a powerful gravity.  
  
And then _he kissed her on the lips again_ , this time _soft_ and _gentle_ as he _once again moved his hand down to her clit_ and _this_ time, _this time_ she couldn't fight back— _this_ time she even sort of kissed him back, but then she sobbed once more into his mouth and said " _please_ stop, _please just stop_ —this isn't—i don't want to do this, not like _this_ —just _please_ —"

 

And _she was such a fucking liar,_ but _so was he_.

 

And he reminded her that "you liked this well enough the last time."

 

And then _she tensed up against him_ and he became _frustrated_ and Sans _was_ _the worst_ , Sans _truly was scum_ , but he _didn't know what else to do_ and so he said, "come _on_ , kid,

 

"is this how you want to repay the only person who's ever cared about you?"

 

A low blow, _a very fucking low blow_ and _even he_ knew it, _even he_ was _disgusted_ and _sick_ with himself—

 

And he felt _guilty_ but she shouldn't have shared that about herself if she didn't want him to use it—  
  
He cut her _just a bit more_.

 

"who _else_ is going to want you but _me_?"

 

And then _she froze_ and then _her crying got quieter_ and then she _gave up_.

 

He saw _the exact moment_ the Determination left her eyes.

 

And he felt nauseous, _he felt sick with himself_ , this had to be an even worse way to get LV—

 

And _this wasn't love_ , this thing he felt for her. It couldn't possibly be—he couldn't possibly be capable of feeling _this bad_ and yet _this damn triumphant_ if it was—

 

Her body relaxed and he felt _so eager_ and _guilty_ and—

 

And it was _so fucking hard_ to feel guilt anymore but _with her,_ he always did. Was that why he wanted her? Because she made him feel _guilt_ and _shame_ and _regret_ , _like he probably once before did_?

 

_Was she supposed to be his redemption,_ somehow?

 

If she _was_ , he was _really screwing this up_. If she _was_ , _..._

 

But he was being _ridiculous_. This timeline was _done_ , he'd _ruined this too much_ , but there would be _other_ times, _other_ timelines, to make things right with Frisk, because he _did_ want—

 

He _so badly wanted_ —

 

She _wouldn't stop crying_. But it would be useless to stop now.

 

" _shh_ , kid. let’s _not fight_.

 

“i just want— a fucking _happy ending_ with you."

 

And then he snorted at his own accidental pun and _shoved a finger into the kid_ and then his thumb resumed stroking her clit. 

 

He nibbled her earlobe and traced the skin of her ear with his tongue as he slowly pumped his finger into her and he whispered "you liked it when i stroked you like this the last time. do you remember?”  
  
And she shook her head frantically but that was a lie, she had to have _at least_ dreamt it, she just didn’t want to—

 

"do you remember how we kissed in your hiding spot? i told you i loved you. that hasn't changed. and _you kissed me back_ , just like in this timeline—” He went a little _faster_ , she felt _so tight_ around his finger, and _he loved the way_ _she bit her lip_.

 

"i _do_ love you, frisk. you are so sweet. _so good_. i just— i'm _not_ —

 

"and shit, kiddo. that isn't your fault at all but _damn if you don't ever run_. you must _really have a thing for me_ —”  
  
And his cock was fully formed now. It had been for a while. And so he pulled at the waistband of his pants, and he positioned himself—  
  
And her tears got out much thicker but she was still crying _so quietly_.  
  
So _cooperatively_.

 

"i'm—i'm sorry. i _do_ love you, i do—”  
  
And this was all he ever wanted. To just have the kid _comply_.

 

"i love you. shit. i wish i didn’t love you like _this_.”

 

He started pushing himself into her and _this_ time he was going slow, _this_ time it wasn't going to hurt, _this_ time she would love _every minute of it_ —

 

"maybe it would be best for you if this time around you remembered this. but kid, i am such a selfish coward." She tensed up around him as soon as she caught on to what he was implying and her fear made it harder to push into her but _her fear felt incredible_.

 

And still _she wasn't going to fight him_.

 

And still _she clung to him_.

 

And it couldn't be completely Sans' fault—that the kid was _so broken_ this way—

 

But _he sure hadn't fucking helped_.

 

And he would have helped the kid, wouldn't he have, when she was younger. He would have gone _above and beyond_ to help her when she was just a kid and _she still looked like a kid_ and he hadn't been _so obsessed_ _with getting a decent fuck out of her_.  
  
He wished Frisk had come to him with her needy loneliness and her low self-esteem when she was eleven and _looked eleven_ , instead of _now_ when _she was still a kid and still was lonely_ but she _looked_ —  


_So goddamn fuckable_.

 

He pushed a little harder into her. She felt like _guilt_ and like _sin_ and like _want_. And wasn't this what Sans was used to? Wasn't this _all he could have_? There were _no happy endings_ for figurative and literal monsters like him.

 

There was _no happiness_ in the end waiting for _him_. But _if he had Frisk_ —

 

If he _at least_ had _Frisk_ —

 

The barrier inside her broke, _again_ , and he lost control. He _pushed_ too hard. He _buried himself all the way in_.

 

She gave a loud sob and squirmed the same moment _he groaned against her ear_.

 

He had to fight hard to still himself. " _shit!_ — _sorry. sorry._ you feel _too good_."

 

He pressed a small kiss on her tear-stained cheek and another one on her forehead and on her lips. " _sorry_ , _kiddo_. i'll be good. i didn't want this—to hurt. _sorry_."

 

He went _slow_ then, _agonizingly so_. And she still felt _so incredible_ —he _wanted this to last_. And then her hands held on to the front of his coat and she buried her face against his chest—

 

She looked _so needy_ and _desperate_ and _so alone_.

 

"i love you," he told her, and he _did_ , _he really did_ , "can you believe that? i just wish—this didn't feel _so wrong_.

 

"or maybe that's precisely what i like about this. i don't know.” And he was still going slow but every so often his pace would pick up, he had to force himself to _slow down_.

 

"what do _you_ like? maybe, if you told me— _i want to have you_ , kid, i _really_ do—if you told me what you wanted from me, i could give it to you."

 

Frisk sniffled. "I told you _so many times_." Her voice was small and she _sounded so defeated_. "I wanted _you_. I _just_ wanted— _just_ _you_."

 

He pressed his forehead against hers and tried hard not to think of _how good it felt_ to pump in and out of her. "not anymore?"

 

She laughed, and the laugh sounded _weak_ and _bitter_ but it _still felt good_ when she constricted around him. "I don't really think you are who I thought you were anymore."

 

He kissed her and she _didn't fight_ , but she didn't exactly kiss him back either.  
  
“but you need me, don’t you? you’re not exactly going to walk away.”  
  
She didn’t say anything to that. And now it was _his_ turn to laugh.

 

" _shhh,_ baby, you don't need to be like that. let's not end the timeline this way. i can be what you want," he told her, and he started going a bit faster then, rubbing his magic over her in thick blue lines. Her face went red. Her breath caught in her throat. And maybe she was dying after this, but that didn't _have_ to— _hahaha!!—‘kill’ the mood_.

 

What was _wrong_ with him?

 

When she remained quiet, Sans abruptly pushed in _rather hard_ and _that_ got a reaction out of her. She gave out a little _scream_ of _pain_ and a—

 

_Was that a moan?_

_Fuck._

 

She was—she _liked_ — "do you want me to go harder?” he asked her with disbelief. “is _that_ what you like?"

 

Her face went _red_ and He pulled her wrists over her head and _kept going, faster_ this time, _harder_ , but not so much that he could get close to the edge. "or do you just like it when i _force you_ to fuck me? do you like knowing that you have _no choice_?”  
  
She started trying to get away from him again and _god_ — _she felt so good wriggling around his cock like that_ —he was _completely overpowering her_ and—

 

And she’d come _so hard around him_ the _last_ time—  
  
He pulled out of her just to flip her over and then he was inside of her again, he _pushed her head down_ against the mattress and _forced himself in_ , _hard_ ,

 

_fast_ ,

 

_rough_ ,

 

And then a hand grabbed a fistful of short hair and _pulled_. His other hand found her clit again and he was being rather rough with it, was rubbing rather fast—

 

_And after a while she fucking came around his cock._

 

And she _stifled her screams_ and _she sobbed hard against the bed_ but he _still felt the kid contract so pleasurably around him_ —

 

He stopped rubbing her and he grabbed her hips and he pulled her entire body to him as he _slammed against her_ and she tried frantically to pull herself off, this _probably hurt_ —

 

He didn’t care.

 

And then _he came inside of her_ and—

 

_Less guilt_ , now. This time.  
  
His breathing was erratic. But he felt— _good_. And he _knew_ he shouldn’t be feeling _this good_.  
  
_But she had liked it._  
  
And she was as good as dead anyway.  
  
He rested his head against the back of her neck. “that was _amazing_. did you like it?”  
  
She didn’t say _anything_ and— _shit_.

 

_Mute_ Frisk.  
  
He rolled himself off of her.  
  
“i don’t even know why i am asking you,” he told her. “i _know_ you did.  
  
“do you want to go at it again?”  
  
She tensed. And at first, she didn’t say anything, but in the end she let out, “Does it even matter what I want?”  
  
He laughed so hard at that. He kissed her.  
  
It didn’t matter at all.  
  
He had her _two more times_ and then he killed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *...but basically, I just wanted to make Sans look awful. Because he is awful. And Frisk, in a way, needed this. So TL;DR:
> 
> Sans goes at it and does the noncon deed with Frisk. Again. Three times. She is not as much into it as Sans keeps telling himself she is. And he doesn't feel as bad as he once did the last time he did this awful thing. And THEN! he kills Frisk! AGAIN.
> 
> And fghjkkdfg I am so pumped for the next chapter because dfghjkl actual plot.
> 
> I AM SO SORRY FRISK. ;_;
> 
> Thank you for either reading or avoiding! BOTH ARE 100% OKAY!!!!


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So here we go.
> 
> Weird stuff is happening here!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning here for- ugh, y'know what? At this point let's pretend that every other chapter will have graphic violence and/or rape, because Jesus Christ Sans. Jesus Christ.
> 
> ALSO! HOLY COW, WOWIE! SOMEBODY ELSE WROTE A STORY ABOUT THIS! Go read it!!! Go read it, it's great! It's called "Depravity" by 0shadow_panther0 and WOWWIE!! YAY! Reading it made my day. :D

Sans woke up in an open space that was _blinding white_ and he felt _no pain_ , he regained _no memories_ , and he _knew at once_ that the world _hadn't RESET_.

 

He couldn't feel his body. He felt incorporeal. And so he looked down and saw—himself. But his body was _broken_. He was _so fragmented_. He looked almost transparent, _barely even visible_ , like he—  
  
Like he _wasn’t supposed to be here_.

 

Two figures were a distance in front of him. They didn't seem to see him, or at least they paid him no mind. And one of them was standing, a redheaded human who looked _strangely familiar_ and _somehow_ _genderless_...

 

And then the other one, _crouching on the floor_ with _her hands hiding her face_ and her head _down to her knees_ , was—

 

_Frisk._

 

_(…Frisk?)_

 

Sans _tried to go to her_ but _he couldn't move_.

 

The redhead spoke. "Well! Can't say we're not surprised by _that_ , can we?" They sounded particularly cheerful in _such_ a _taunting_ _way_. And maybe it was hypocritical of him, but Sans felt a strong protective need to _get Frisk out of there_ and—  
  
And the redhead spoke again. "God, we must have dreamt of him raping us _so many times_. Why didn't you _listen_?"

 

And Sans was _frozen in more ways than one_. He _didn’t want to be here_ , _didn’t want to listen_ , he wanted to _flee_ and be _out of here_ and _he wanted to take Frisk with him_ , he wanted to _take his kid away_ from whatever that thing was—

 

His kid shook her head and the redhead giggled.

 

"He really _is_ a monster," they mused, and then _they casually got a knife out of their pocket_ , an _eerie smile_ on their face, and Sans knew _then_ that this was—

 

This _must_ be— the _bad voice._

 

_Where was Sans?_

 

"Welp! I'm guessing you don't want to go back there again after _that_? Mind if _I_ give it a try this time?"

 

Sans saw the way Frisk shook her head frantically. The redhead pretended not to see her, and they must have been about to do something that Sans couldn't quite catch, because then the kid suddenly groaned out a weak, " _Don't!_ "

 

The redhead—the _bad voice_ —giggled again. " _Really?_ _Again_ fighting this? Come _on_ , Frisk. I couldn't _possibly_ be _any worse_ than _he_ is!"

 

And then _Frisk—didn't—fight_. 

 

_She started crying._

 

And then he was suddenly in the middle of reading a story to Papyrus, and he felt like the world was about to _end_.

 

 

 

_The pain was unbearable_. He hadn't _ever_ felt this bad before, _not once_ , not after _any other_ _RESET_. It was like his memories were being carved into his skull through _flame_ and _piercing knives_ at the same time _his soul was forcefully shoved into his body_. _Every inch of bone_ felt like _it was on fire_ —  
  
Sans felt like _he was dying_ —

                              

_He screamed so loud_ that it frightened Papyrus and then Sans _threw up_ , he threw up _so much magic_ , the _blue_ was coming out of him _in waves_ and _it oozed out of his ears_ , _his eyes_ , _his mouth_ , he could _barely breathe_ , this was _surely Hell_ —  
  
_He was dying_ , he wasn’t supposed to—his body wasn’t _meant_ to feel this way—monster souls were too weak to be detached from their bodies and yet _his_ soul felt like it had been somehow torn out previously and _was now being forced back in_ —

 

Papyrus screamed even louder than Sans did. He looked _so concerned_. " _S-SANS!!_ WHAT IS HAPPENING? BROTHER, ARE YOU ALRIGHT!??"

 

And Sans could only scream _and_ _so_ _Sans_ _just kept screaming_. His magic flooded the room, his magic probably flooded the entire _house_ , and _he screamed_ and _he cried_ and he—

 

He _was not meant to experience a RESET like this._

 

It was _too much_ , _it was all too much_ —

 

"BROTHER!!! TALK TO ME!!!!" He felt Papyrus' hands on his shoulders and _it felt like a piercing burn_.

 

And Sans _needed_ to _make this stop_ — _he needed to_ —

 

_The dirty brother killer was in the house._

 

" _stay right here,_ papyrus," he warned him through a forced growl, and then _he slammed Pap to the floor and held him there_ with whatever magic he was able to control, and perhaps his magic was too harsh, but _he could barely control it_ , and he needed—

 

_He needed Pap safe._

 

It was _not-Frisk this time_ and _he knew it_ —The timeline _had to RESET_.

 

"SANS!!" Papyrus screamed as Sans ran out of the room but he didn't look back, Papyrus _was safe_ , Papyrus would remain safe as long as he took care of the not-Frisk, _the_ _bad voice_ , before they got to Pap.

 

He ran down the stairs _and his bones still felt like they were on fire_.

 

The kid was still on the couch. The little fucker was _pretending that she slept_.

 

He turned her soul blue and _threw her off his couch_ and _slammed her_ _hard_ against the wall.

 

And then she gave a little shriek of pain but _she was smiling_ , the _fucking psycho_. “Aw, Sansy! How did you _know_?”

 

“you reek of dirty brother killer,” he snarled at her. And then the not-Frisk _laughed_.  
  
He pierced her with a cluster of sharp bones and it was probably cruel of him to avoid the vital organs, it was probably cruel to let the fucker _just bleed to death_.

 

And Sans as in _no mood to have fun_ while he killed the not-Frisk but he _could sure use some time to rest_ as he waited for the world to RESET.

 

He was in for _a lot of pain_ once the not-Frisk died.

 

And in the back of his mind, he felt _so incredibly guilty_ when he noticed that Frisk had SAVEd _in his house_ after _he'd kissed her_.

 

“H-Hey, Sansy,” the not-Frisk said, and _he hated that fucking nickname_ out of her mouth,  
  
(He wondered how he’d feel about it if it were _Frisk_ calling him that way),  
  
“W-what do… y-you and I have… in c-common?” she asked him, and _she was dying_ , she was _so close to death_ , and he knew that she was trying to taunt him and he was in _no mood_ to humor _this bitch_. He closed his eye sockets.  
  
“I-I’m— _hahah!_ — _I’m_ a… _d-dirty b-brother killer_ … but _y-you_ —”

 

She laughed _so feebly_ and he knew that the RESET was coming soon. Sans tried hard to brace himself. His pain had receded, but it was about to start again.  
  
“ _Y-you_ … are a _d-dirty_ … _ch-child rapist! H-haha hah!_ ”

 

And then _he lost his patience_ and _he twisted_ his summoned bones and he _made sure_ that one _pierced_ _her_ _right through the throat_.

 

 

 

The bright place again. The kid crying. Sans is still unable to move. The dirty brother killer again offers to take over.  
  
“Chara, _don’t_ —” Frisk pleads, but she _doesn’t fight_. She sounds _so pathetic_. So _undetermined_.  
  
Sans feels _guilt_. Sans tries _so hard_ to reach the kid.  
  
The world RESET. And now _the bad voice has a name_.  
  
  
  
The world started again, and Sans was less than optimistic.  
  
“SANS!?” Sans _slammed Papyrus against his bed_ and _there_ _had to be_ a better way than this, he _hated_ using his magic on Papyrus—

 

The pain started again. He was _on fire_. And it hurt—it _fucking hurt_ —  
  
He didn’t know how he managed it but suddenly he was running down the stairs and _his bones were on fire and his mind was a rush of burning memories_ and _Papyrus was screaming,_ he was yelling Sans’ name, Papyrus was _worried_ —

 

_There had to be a better way_ , there _had to be a way_ so that Papyrus would not have to _worry_ —

 

The _dirty brother killer_ had made their way to the kitchen.

 

 “Oops! Caught me!” she said cheerfully, raising a pair of empty hands, palms towards him as if showing him she was surrendering, as if _any_ of this was just a _fucking game_.   
  
He angrily killed her off before he knew what he was doing.

 

 

 

Bright place, crying Frisk, taunting Chara, dozens of times.

 

Perhaps hundreds of times, or even thousands of times. Sans had lost count. It was _so hard to count_ , when he was _almost constantly_ in _blinding pain_.

  
Sans figured out a way to focus his magic enough to _freeze Papyrus in time_ before the pain got too unbearable to control his magic. It was tricky magic and weird and uncomfortable, but _at least Papyrus wouldn’t have to_ _worry_ this way.

 

And perhaps Sans had to suffer through each RESET but _at least_ — _at least Pap didn’t have to._

He was as innocent as Frisk was. And Sans _so wished_ —that he could protect _both_.

 

He was still unable, so _absolutely unable_ , to move and go to Frisk while in the bright place. He still didn’t know what that place was. He’d saved the question for a Frisk RESET. Right now, his mind was preoccupied with the searing pain,

 

Killing off the _not-Frisk—Chara—_

And helping _Frisk_ , the _crying Frisk_ , the _helpless Frisk_ , **_his_** _**kid**_ —

 

Dozens of more RESETs. Hundreds more. Perhaps _a thousand_ or _a million_ more. It was all the same to Sans.

 

And each time he killed Chara until one day he _gave up_ and _he didn’t_.

 

He was _so tired_.

 

He became _selfish_.

 

And then she lunged at him with a sharp knife and _he saw it coming_ but _he let himself die_. It turned out to be less painful than the RESETs. And then the following RESET came without a visit to the bright place and without as much burning pain and _Sans knew_ —Sans knew then that his soul had indeed been getting torn out and sent to the bright place with each RESET, but then he had died before Frisk’s body did—

 

And his death had been… so… _relieving_.

 

And he was _selfish_ and _he felt bad for Pap_ but then he let himself die just a couple of times more and _then_ _Frisk came back._

_It was a Frisk timeline again._

 

And he couldn't believe it, at first—

 

He’d gone down the stairs after freezing Papyrus and he had seen the kid’s body just watching tv on the couch. And he _couldn’t believe it_ , but—

 

" _Frisk?_ "

 

And then she looked at him with _so much MERCY_ and _so much purity_ and _not an ounce of hate_ , not _the slightest hint of LV_ , and _he knew it was her_ and _he ran to her_.

 

He’d _missed her so, so much_.

 

He _kissed her_. And at first, she just lay there and let him force his mouth, his magic, his tongue—

 

_Her body was completely rigid and then she trembled slightly_

 

But then he moved from her lips and kissed her cheek, her neck—

 

"i _love you_ , i _missed you_ —"

 

And then her hands moved to the front of his coat before she wrapped her arms around him and _she hugged him_ _so tight_ —“I—I missed you, too.”

 

And he was _so glad_ , he was _so relieved_. Her love _felt like forgiveness_ and he—

 

He wanted to show her—

 

And perhaps he still wasn’t thinking right. His mind was still absorbing the past RESETs. But he _knew_ that—he’d had her—

 

And he wanted to have her again.

 

He moved them to his bedroom. He had _told_ himself _he_ _wouldn't_ but _he did_ , he _missed her_ , he _loved her_ , and his restraint had died _so many timelines ago_ —

 

And he _needed her_ and he _needed this_ , he _really did_ —

 

He forced her pants off. He pulled down his own.

 

And _she froze_ and then—

 

"Please don't," she begged him. Her voice was _so hushed_ , _so quiet_ , just _so, so small_ that _he pretended not to hear it_.

 

And he felt _guilt_ and he felt _shame_ but _he’d missed her he’d missed her_ and he _needed her_ and _needed this_ and _they had already done this, so many times_ , 

 

What more could one more time hurt?

 

And she was _his_.

 

She _belonged_ to _him_.

 

He pushed himself inside of her and _again that annoying barrier_ ; he was getting _so tired_ of trying to be gentle—

 

And then _she tried to move her hips away_ and _he firmly held her in place_ and then _he forced himself in all at once_.

 

She gave _such a quiet little cry_ and he _knew_ it had _hurt_.

 

He was _so sorry_. He'd make up for this eventually.

 

But right now _he needed this_ and _needed her_ and he went rather slow, _at first_ , as she adjusted. 

 

He begged her. " _please_ don't hate me. _please, please..._ "

 

And he hadn't really helped her get ready for him. And it would be delusional to pretend she was enjoying this. And so _he picked up the pace_ , 

 

_better make this quick,_

_better get this over with,_

 

And then he was going _rather hard_ and he was going _rather fast_ and he was _slamming himself into_ _her_ and _she was good_ , she was _so good_ , no loud screams out of her and she was limp as he pounded into her and she was _such a good girl_ ,

 

She was _being such a good girl just letting him fuck her, just letting him do what he wanted with her_ ,

 

And so he went a bit _bolder_ and he asked her, _very nicely_ , even as his voice was full of _need_ , "can you spread your legs a little wider for me, please? i want to know what it feels like when you just _completely_ _give up and_ _take me_ "

 

And she was crying quietly and she was _still_ and then he started forcing himself _even deeper_ , _even harder_ , and he didn’t really do it consciously but maybe he was _purposefully hurting her_ _with his dick_ until she _did_ ,

 

She _did_ spread her legs wider for him. She _did_ and now he— _could go deeper_ —

 

_And yes, this was what he wanted to see he could make her do—_

 

And then he came in her and it was over and then he felt _guilt_.

 

He felt _guilt_ and _shame_ and _disgust_. And only Frisk could make him feel this way. Only Frisk could make him remember what it felt like—

 

What it was like to—to _want to be_ a good person?

 

Hurting her could feel _so cathartic_. But hurting her **needed** to **stop**.

 

And then suddenly he was horrified.

 

And this was _not supposed to be the way_ his first time was with Frisk. The first time that she _remembered_. He had screwed up, he had _been selfish._ He had screwed up _again_ because he’d _needed this_ and _needed her_ and _he had missed her_ —He’d been _so selfish_ —

 

And he resigned himself because it was back to _the bright space_ again. Back to the _searing pain_. Back to another RESET.

 

And he was still on top of her and then his eyes met hers. She looked _so sad_ and just _so, so defeated_ and then she said, " _Please_ … at _least_ … don't kill me."

 

And how did she _know_?

 

“It hurts to die.”

 

He still did.

 

 

 

And _again_ they were in the white space and _again_ Frisk and Chara were there.

 

" _Wow!_ " Chara said, and they sounded as _nasty_ and _taunting_ as always but there was still a hint of disbelief in their voice. "You go back to him after _how many Resets_ and then he _pulls this stint_ on you _again_!? He must _really hate you_! Just what exactly do you even _see_ in this guy?"

 

The kid muttered something _so softly_ that Sans couldn't hear, but apparently Chara _did_ , because _they giggled_ and said, "And you _believe_ that? _Really_ believe that? Are you really _that dumb_ or do you just _hate yourself_?"

 

Frisk shook her head and _again_ Sans wanted to go to her, again he felt the protective need to _get her out of there_. He mustered up _all of his magic_ and _all of his power_ and _managed to take a single step_ this time and—!

 

And Chara _noticed_. They looked _right at him_ , eyes wide with disbelief. "Oh, _shit_."

 

" _Frisk_ —" they said, and they looked startled beyond belief, like it was simply _impossible_ that Sans could be there. "Frisk, what did you _do_? This is _not the place_ to bring your obsessive rapist into."

 

Sans’ kid looked up to Chara and seemed to be still unaware of him when she said, "What do you mean?"

 

And then suddenly there was a strong sense of urgency in _the brother killer’s_ voice. They looked startled and afraid. "You know what, just Reset. Just Reset and get him out of here."

 

And then Chara _pushed Frisk_ and Sans _almost lunged at them_ and then he was—

 

_AGAIN_ —

 

_Again_ reading Papyrus his bedtime story and _again_ the pain, _again_ the burning of bones as his soul was _unnaturally forced_ back into his body, and he mustered up _what little control_ he still had and he _wasn't about to worry his brother_ , he froze him in time—He froze _all of time_ —

 

And then he gave out a _long, ear piercing scream_ and he _threw up so much magic_ , he almost choked in it, and his bones _were on fire_ and _the_ _memories came crashing back_ —

 

_He didn't even know who he was anymore._

 

And he felt— _so much stronger_ —after each RESET. And it was— _so much more painful_ —after _each and every RESET_. And he didn't know _why_ ; were the effects cumulative? It was an interesting hypothesis worthy of study for another time because _right now_ , he needed to calm himself.

 

_Right now_ , he needed muster enough composure to finish Pap's bedtime story.

 

_Right now_ , Frisk was waiting for him downstairs, and _he would make things right_ , _he would be good_ ,

 

He _had_ to. He _loved_ her. He _was so in love with that kid_ and she was—

 

_She was—_

 

She was _good_. She was _kind_. She was _so funny_ and _bright_ and _full of MERCY_ and she was—

 

Was just _so, so much more_ _than he was_.

 

She was _more_ than he could _ever hope for_ , or ever grow to deserve.

 

He felt a certain lonely bitterness deep in his chest.

 

He had taken her and killed her _so many times_ and there was _no way_ , in the end, that he was meant for her, no matter _how much he wanted her_ , there was just _no way_.

 

He was _too wrong_. _Too full of LV_. _Too sadistic_ , _too detached_ , _too desperate_ and _alone_ and _afraid_ and _he'd lived a lonely existence without consequences_ for _far too long_ ,

 

He had been used to _not seeing people as people_ for _far too long_ ,

 

And he was—in the end—just going to make her _suffer_ with him. Just going to make her _hurt_.

 

He was bad. _He was poison_.

 

But she was _so bright_ and _so good_ and _so pure_ and _wonderful_ and he just _couldn't pull himself away_.

 

He remained sitting there on his own, full of thoughts of _want_ and of _self-hate_ and of his _twisted, obsessive_ _love_ and of his _LOVE_ for far too long. Then he calmed down. He regained control of his magic.

 

He restarted the world. (It was easy, _so easy_.)

 

He finished reading the bedtime story to Papyrus. He fell asleep at precisely the same chapter he’d had before. (So predictable and _so boring_ even though _Sans loved Papyrus_.)

 

He collected his thoughts. He took a deep breath. He tried _hard_ to pretend he was _a good person_. ( _don't screw this up_ , _don't screw this up, just for her don’t screw this up._ )

 

And then he _finally_ and _very_ _composedly_ and _very_ _carefully_ went to _her_.

 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO many comments for this story, and half of them are making AngeliaDark rich.
> 
> Speaking of the Asshole Jar, reader Dusk drew an AWESOME thing!!!   
> http://goinggoose.tumblr.com/post/139905127095/i-paid-my-25-cents-kenya

His voice was as light and carefree as he could ever make it as he went downstairs and found her watching tv on the couch.

 

"heya, kiddo. you’re still up?"

 

She checked the clock. "It's only 8:30," she said. And _she_ _didn't look at him_ , and Sans was grateful. He was  _so grateful_  because he felt like  _sin_  and  _like bile_  and he was  _certain_  that he had  _guilt_  written all over his face.

 

He sat on the couch next to her. And  _ugh_ , of course the kid had been watching Nectarine Girl. He remembered Papyrus; he would kill Sans if he knew he'd let the kid keep watching  _that terrible anime_  while Pap was asleep.

 

_This_ time, though, Sans _didn't say_   _anything_.

 

And it felt  _wrong_ , to just sit with her after all he had done. He wanted to _leave_ , wanted to have _some degree of_   _shame_  and  _give her space_ , even if she didn't remember. But the fact was that  _she didn't remember_  and Sans—

 

Sans was  _so weak_.

 

Sans was  _so selfish_.

 

And Sans  _needed_ —

 

Sans _loved_ —

 

This  _kid_.

 

And was she going to ask him again to define their relationship, tomorrow? And if she was, would he be  _brave_  enough,  _selfish enough_ , _desperate_ enough to say  _yes_?

 

He  _knew_  that's what she wanted.

 

He  _owed her this much_.

 

And  _he did love her_  but he—

 

It was  _so fucking ridiculous_  that he was even considering an established relationship with a 14 year-old kid. And that he was doing this  _one timeline away_  from  _forcing her to have sex with him_ ; what did that say about  _him_?

 

Casual sex was  _one thing_ —

 

One thing he  _definitely wanted_.

 

And then, maybe, when she was older—

 

Maybe, when she remembered past timelines, was able to hold on to memories after every RESET—

 

_Maybe_ , when he was  _better_ —perhaps  _never good_ , but  _at least significantly better_ — _Maybe_ , after he was done studying the Anomaly, after he had stopped being  _so obsessed_  and  _full of lust_  and of _want_ and was able to focus on the fact that  _she was an actual person_ and _not a thing to be fucked, not a thing to be had, not a thing to be studied and hurt_ _because it felt SO, SO GOOD to hurt her_ when he was _hurting her with his cock and_ — _Maybe_ — _Just maybe_  she'd forgive him and he would be—

 

_Not worthy_  but at least—Not  _nearly as undeserving_ —of  _her_.

 

_Not nearly_  as harmful, to  _her_.

 

And he could give her what she wanted because  _he could be what she wanted_  and not be— _this_   _thing_  that he was.

 

Not be  _this awful thing_   _that he was_ , not be  _as poisonous as he was_  to her because he was—he was  _not good_ —he was  _not_  merciful—he was—just  _this_.

 

This  _monster_. This  _sadist_. This  _selfish fucking bastard_  who had  _killed her more than once_ , who had  _raped her more than once and had loved it_ , who had _forced her to fuck and made her like it_ , who was _wanting to do it again_.

 

And perhaps he could never be any better than  _this_.

 

But at least,  _if he tried hard_ —if  _he tried_   _really, really hard_ _for her_ —he could pretend.

 

He could pretend to be _better than he was_ or _ever would be_ , for _her_.

 

She brought him out of his wretched pool of self-hate. Her voice was light and she said “I missed watching tv with you. Thanks for not taking away Nectarine Girl."

 

Sans forced out a chuckle. “no problem, kid. just don’t tell papyrus.”

 

She  _very tentatively_  rested her head against his shoulder and  _why was she hesitating_? Had they not made up, in this timeline?  
  
They  _had_ , hadn’t they?

 

His mind more often than not was  _such a mess of timelines_.

 

And had he told her yet that he loved her?

 

Had he ever said he was _sorry?_ S _o sorry_ — _sorry for loving her_ and _sorry for hurting her_ and _sorry_ because _that was all he had in him_ to _do_ , he was _not good_ , he was _not even remotely good anymore_ and he was _sorry_ —

 

He was _sorry_ , _so sorry_ , he was _sorry that he loved her and sorry that she loved him and sorry that he took advantage of that_.

 

He was _sorry for many things_ he was _too weak_ to _stop doing_.

 

And it was like she knew what he was thinking. Like she'd seen the _guilt_ and the _self-hate_ and the _self-disgust_ in his mind because she suddenly placed a soft hand on his coat and she stroked his arm in a way that was _so soothing_ to him. _He loved her_. 

 

Her voice was soft and light and beautiful. “How has Papyrus been, anyway? I didn’t get—I  _knew_  you were avoiding me, so I didn’t get to spend much time with him these past few months. He was always either at your house or with Undyne.”

 

He felt _more_ than just slightly _guilty_. “papyrus is good. still can’t cook for crap, as you will probably see. breakfast spaghetti is still _awful_.”

 

She squeezed his arm. “ _Ugh_. You know, I actually missed his breakfast spaghetti, but I didn’t  _miss_  his breakfast spaghetti, y’know what I mean? I’m  _so_  glad I brought my backpack. Can I borrow a plastic bag? You know, to hide the spaghetti.”

 

“bottom drawer of the kitchen counter,” Sans told her, and  _just this_  was nice, just  _sitting together_ felt good, so  _why did he insist_  on  _wanting more_? He  _didn’t deserve it_ , didn’t deserve  _even this_ —

 

He felt so—so  _filthy_ , so  _worthless_ —

 

And hurting her had felt  _so cathartic_  but now he just felt like  _sin_

 

Like  _blood_

 

Like  _pain_  and like  _dirt_  and like  _misery_

And he just  _wanted her_  to want him. And he just  _needed her_  to not hate him.

 

Just  _please, please_ — _never hate him_ —

 

She was  _his_  kid,  _his_ ,  _his_ …

 

And he  _could be_   _hers_ , he  _already was hers_ — _if she wanted him_.

 

She brought him back again. “You know, you are,  _seriously_ , like, the best brother. Haven’t you ever thought of just telling Papyrus that his spaghetti sucks?”

 

Sans forced out another snort, and this time it was more genuine. “haven’t  _you_?”

 

She laughed. “I guess not.”

 

And then there was another silence. Sans  _tried_   _hard_  not to feel the pleasing way her head felt on his shoulder, her hand on his arm. He  _tried_   _hard_  to be decent. He  _tried hard_   _not to be_ —

 

_What he was._

 

He let his hand hold her free one and  _she let their fingers intertwine_. And it was  _just innocent hand-holding_ , they had done this _a hundred times_.

 

But it felt like  _so much more_.

 

_He held on tight._

“Sans? You’re a very good brother. How much time do you actually spend with Papyrus?”

 

There was something in the way she said it that made him  _listen_. She sounded— _worried_. Had something happened?

 

“not an awful lot of time, lately,” Sans admitted. “i’ve been, ah, busy working on some science projects”— _studying_ _you_ —“is there something i need to know?”

 

And then Frisk became very quiet, and she stroked his hand with her thumb, and then she squeezed his arm and she was doing this _to soothe him_ wasn't she, she was doing this _to keep him calm_ , and  _she lifted her head_  and  _she kissed his cheek_ —

 

_She pressed herself close to him._

 

And then she said, in her wonderfully _soft, soothing,_ _beautiful voice_ , “Please don’t be mad. But Flowey—Flowey told me that he talks to Papyrus.”

 

And then Sans _froze_. He felt a sudden _quiet rage_ building inside him _but the kid wasn’t finished_.

 

“He told me that—He’s killed him.”

 

_More quiet rage_ , now bubbling to the surface. The room was turning  _blue_. But she wasn’t  _done_.

 

“And I thought maybe that’s why I did the RESETs. I thought Flowey had killed Papyrus. So when I went to check on him today—”

 

The room was blue now. He was _so angry_. He was going to find _that fucking weed and_ — 

 

_And—_

 

_When she had checked on Flowey **today**_?

 

“—when I met with him today, I asked—”

 

_N o, n o, n o._   _That was **tomorrow**. _ _She was m e e t i n g w i t h F l o w e y **t o m o r r o w.**_

 

“—and he told me he _had_ —” _He tuned her out._

 

**She was meeting with Flowey T o m o r r o w, t o m o r r o w, a n d . . .**

And these were all memories from  **t h e  w r o n g  t i m e l i n e.**

And she was  _still going on about Papyrus_. “Do you think, that you could—”

 

“ **kid.** ” He cut her off. And the room was blue and his eye was probably blue and he was probably  _terrifying her_ , but he was  _so mad_ , he was  _so mad at Flowey_  and yet he was simultaneously _happy_ and _elated_ and _anxious_ and _hopeful_ and  _afraid_ , _so afraid_ ,  _so scared and_ —and he _was_ _with her_ but he was  _absolutely terrified_ — “ **kid, you— you remember doing that?"**

 

And the kid froze at that and Sans shouldn’t have spoken so harshly, he shouldn’t have sounded as  _mad_  as he had but he was _still angry_ about Flowey and he was  _still anxious and ecstatic and terrified_  that Frisk _had remembered_ —

 

And  _what else_  could she remember?

 

What  **else**  did  **she**   **remember?**

The kid shifted her eyes upstairs and then she told him, _very quietly_ , as his magic consumed them, “ _Sans_ , if you don’t calm down, you’re going to wake up Papyrus.”

 

And Sans just about  _lost it_.  _Who the fuck cared right now about Papyrus_. But _then the kid said_ —“I _know_ you don’t want him to hear us. Please? Please calm down, we can talk—I really don’t want to die again.”

 

_I really don’t want to die again._

 

_She—_

_He—_

 

He  _wanted to d i e_.

 

He wanted to _k i l l  h e r_ and see if she _remembered that_.

 

He noticed how his hand was still holding hers when the kid tried to move her hand away and so  **he held it there** and then he decided _that wasn't enough_ , he turned her soul blue and _he_ _threw her to the floor_ and then he _pinned her there_ with both his magic and his hands on her wrists.

 

And there was _definitely fear_ in the kid's eyes. There was definitely _fear_ and _distress_ and _MERCY_ and—

 

_R e s i g n a t i o n._

And he suddenly felt like _he had so much control over her_ and—

 

And he wanted _to_ _overpower her again_ , he wanted _to force her_ , he wanted _to make her spread her legs for him again_ and **_lie_** and tell her that _she couldn’t leave, she shouldn’t leave_ , because _who else would want her_ but _him_ and he—

 

And he  _tried really hard_ —to be  _good_.

 

He  _tried really hard_ —to be  _decent_.

 

Because if the kid remembered that  _he had raped her_ , multiple times… If the kid had grown to  _hate him_ … Then there really would be no point in not simply  _taking her again until she gave up_ , was there?

 

And  _how could he force her to stay with him_?

 

And she brought him out of his  _destructiveness_  and his  _desperation_  and  _his frantic need to tie her down to him_ ,  _again_ , and she said—in her _soothing voice_ —

 

“Please let me go. I'm not going to run, so... please...”

 

And suddenly he was _horrified_. Hadn’t he been _just_ trying to do the right thing? He was _so_ bad at it, he was _inherently bad_ , he was _inherently disgusting and horrible_ —

 

 He _loosened his grip_ and he said—

 

" _sorry_ "—

 

And then he _ever so tentatively_ and _selfishly_ pressed _a small kiss_ on the kid's lips.

 

Her eyes were wide and her cheeks went pink.

 

She looked—

 

Innocent. Beautiful.

 

And _she probably remembered more than she let on_. But Sans wasn't about to question her and _find out_.

 

"i am just— _so gla_ d that you finally remember something. i’d been waiting for this to happen. did it hurt?"

 

"It felt like a headache," she told him and his hands let go of her wrists completely, but _he still stayed on top of her_ , he _still debated raping her_ , he pressed his forehead against hers.

 

"it will get worse, the more you remember," he told her. "kiddo, if you need—someone to talk to, i'll be glad to do it. i wish someone had been there when i— i just want to make this as least painful as possible for you."

 

She gave him such a melancholy smile that _he knew_ that _she remembered more than she let on_. "You are _not_ — _ever_ —the way that I remember you."

 

He was very honest with her. "i'm trying, kid."

 

And then—"sometimes... i don't succeed."

 

And finally—"please don't—please don’t hate me." _(please, please.)_ "i don't—hate you. as hard as that is to believe."

 

"I don't think I could ever hate you,” she told him, and she sounded so _honest_ , so _merciful_ , _so full of goodness_ and _light_ that _Sans just_ —

 

“But—I _am_ scared—of what you can _do_. Do you understand that?"

  
He hid his face from her by burying it against her neck. “no.”

 

And he was _absolutely miserable_.

 

“Sans—”

 

“it’s hard. it’s so hard to care, knowing that the world will just RESET. kiddo, _trust_ _me_ , you’ll understand—”

 

" _Sans_ ," she whispered, and her voice was still soft but _he could hear the admonishment in her voice_ and there was _no anger_ in her, _no hate_ , but still the way she spoke made him feel _so small_. "If the world just Resets, that's all the more reason—that's a new opportunity to _be better_ , not _worse_."

 

He kept hiding his face against the kid’s neck and told her bitterly " _i am not as good as you are._ "

 

And then her voice softened _even more_. She wrapped her arms around him. "You _can_ be good. I _know_ you can. Sans, you already _so often are_ — _I love you_.”

 

And _Sans felt his sins crawling on his back._

 

He became— _desperate_.

 

He _kissed her_ , and when _she let him_ , he forced his tongue inside of her and—

 

And he could _have her now_ , couldn’t he. Have her _for good_.

 

If she _still loved him_ , even after _this_ —

 

_She was as good as his and—_

 

And what would a _decent person_ do? Wasn’t he _trying_ — _still trying to pretend_ — _for her?_

 

He pushed himself off of her even though _he really didn’t want to_ and _Frisk looked_ —

 

_Her face was flushed._

 

Her breathing was heavy.

 

She looked like she had _enjoyed him kissing her_ and yet

 

she still—

 

looked—

 

_relieved_ —

 

that he had _stopped_.

 

He felt like _the scum of the Earth_.

 

“sorry,” he told her, and he was _truly sorry_ that he had _screwed this up so badly_ that the kid could be simultaneously _aroused by him kissing her and afraid_. And then he said “sorry, i—i love you too.”

 

And then “there is _so much_ i want to talk to you about.”

 

And then “kiddo, it’s you and me now. we’re in this together, okay?”

 

And then he helped her up and _he kissed her forehead_ and he said “i _promise_ i won’t let the RESETs do to you what they did to me.”

 

And he felt _so much love for her_ at that moment. _So much love_ and _so much want_ and _he wanted—_

 

_To take her._

 

But _she loved him_ and so _he pretended—_

 

He _so frantically_ _pretended that_ he _didn’t_.

 

 

 

Things changed between them, and it was like they were just friends again.

 

_Just friends who sometimes kissed._

They talked _so much_ about the RESETs, and it was everything that Sans had wanted. He finally began to feel understood. And it was _so nice_ , when Frisk would say things like,

 

“Ugh, I just remembered I once spat soda at Grillby that time I laughed too hard at one of your stupid jokes. You don’t think he might still somehow remember that, do you? That was _so embarrassing_.”

 

And it was _even better_ , when Sans could say,

 

“do you remember that time papyrus asked you on that date?”  
  
And then a brief pause and then a groan of recognition. “ _Oh, god_ — _Yes!_ He was _so clueless_ back then— _I was twelve_!”

 

And he didn’t mention that the first time he had forced his dick inside her, she had probably been twelve.

 

He _guiltily_ wondered if she _also remembered that_.

 

 

 

One morning Sans woke up, and they had been sleeping together again.

 

Not _sleeping together_ , but— _just_ _sleeping_ , on the same bed. Like _before_.

 

The kid was already getting dressed before he even got out of the bed.

 

She had become— _quite liberal_ , dressing in front of him. And he never saw her in less than her underwear, and he guessed it made sense, with them sharing his room, and her technically still being just a kid and him having _already seen her naked_ —but _still_ —

 

Still, it was—a _sight to see_. And he should have probably mentioned how _tempting_ it was, but selfishly _he never did_.

 

She brightened up when she saw he was awake. “Good morning, lazybones! I gotta go soon. Want to have brunch at Grillby’s later?”

 

Sans groaned. “are you off to see the weed _again_?”

 

“I think he gets lonely,” she told him. “And besides, these past few days he hasn’t _once_ threatened to kill Papyrus. I think I’m getting to him. And I think—I’m starting to suspect he actually _likes_ Papyrus, because—”

 

He interrupted her. “ **kid** , don’t gush about the weed. i know you’re really wanting friends but _not the weed_ , ok?”

 

Her face fell. “It’s not that I’m gushing about him. I just think… There has to be some good in Flowey, right? I think he’s actually fond of Papyrus.”

 

Sans groaned. It was too early to be debating this with Frisk. “from what you’ve told me, that flower is a soulless shell of a thing. _kiddo_ , i know you want to see good in everyone, but this is going to get you hurt more than once. i’ve _told_ you this _so many times_. and that weed is _still_ going to try to kill _my brother_ unless you let me get my hands on it already—”

 

“Don’t you think Flowey deserves a chance? I know he can be good, just like you can—”

 

And Sans was in no mood. “i’m only _trying_ to be good,” he told her, and his eye flashed blue. “doesn’t mean i don’t still want to _fuck the shit out of you_.”

 

And there it was.

 

In a rather poor choice of words, but there it was.

 

Frisk blushed a deep red. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “ _Um_.”

 

“…shit. just _go_ , kid. seeing you getting dressed always gets me horny.”

 

And then Papyrus’ voice called them from the kitchen. It was apparently almost eight in the morning, and the breakfast spaghetti was ready. And Frisk looked like she didn’t know what to _do_.

 

Sans grabbed a pillow and pressed it against his face. He groaned. “ _go_. just distract pap for like fifteen minutes. i’ll be down there soon.”

 

And Frisk hesitated for a small moment but this had become a familiar request. He had _asked_ her to do this before. “Um—Okay.”

 

And then she left. And Sans pulled down the waistline of his fucking pants,

 

He was _trying to be good_. And he was _pretending_ , if not _well_ , at least _sufficiently_.

 

And maybe on mornings like these, he screwed up. He said the wrong thing. He startled Frisk and he pointed out the _lie_.

 

But then again, on mornings like these, he _really fucking resented having to pretend to be good_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk wtf is going on with Frisk and Sans at this point tbh, ffs jfc.


	22. Chapter 22

Sans  _tried hard_  to be good,  _tried so hard_  to be good, but it was  _so difficult_  to be good, and  _obedient_ , and  _trustworthy_ , when he knew  _exactly where the kid was_  and by extension where she was  _with that fucking flower_.

 

Sans wanted to  _teleport there right now_  and just kill the weed.

 

But the kid had  _asked_  him, very nicely, not to follow her. The kid had asked and Sans  _so badly wanted to prove_ —

 

That he  _could_  do what she wanted.

 

That he  _could_   _be_  what she wanted.

 

And so he stayed far away, and he went to work, and he thought of  _her_.

 

And perhaps it didn’t help that today was Saturday, so he had to man this ridiculous hot dog stand in Hotland. How had Sans  _ever_  thought this job would be a good idea? Sure, there were only so many jobs available in Snowdin. Grillby had outright refused to hire Sans due to his suspicions that Sans might just drink all the ketchup (how did Grillby know Sans so well?).

 

But, at least right now, he  _absolutely hated_  being this far from Snowdin. At least right now, he  _absolutely hated_  having to work in Hotland.

 

And he hated that he had these many jobs. He hated that this particular job took him away from Snowdin. Papyrus had never particularly minded, he was so obsessed with becoming a member of the Royal Guard and training with Undyne, every spare moment was dedicated to his goal. But _Frisk_ —

 

Frisk  _always_  seemed to miss him. Frisk  _always_  dropped by to visit him at work when he was manning the sentry stations near Snowdin. And when Sans was in Hotland, the kid couldn’t  _do_  that.

 

And he was only here for a few hours.

 

But this was  _still_  his third job and it just left him—

 

So  _bone tired_ to work almost every single day of the week.

 

He sold a hot dog to a dog monster and couldn’t resist cracking a joke even as he considered quitting all these stupid jobs.

 

He could always go back to working under the Royal Scientist, even though the Royal Scientist was now Alphys and hell if he didn’t find her main area of study boring. Who picked a  _biologist_  as the Royal Scientist? Gaster would have been scandalized. And sure, having a Royal Scientist who understood human biology might be useful, now that Asgore was determined to use human souls to break the barrier, but  _goddamn_ —

 

_Jesus fucking Christ_ , Alphys couldn’t even solve the simplest partial derivative in a vector equation and her understanding of quantum physics was  _laughable_ at best, how would she  _ever_  find another way to break the barrier if the last human never fell?

 

And _speaking of the last human_ —

 

Gathering souls for Asgore had certainly paid well.

 

Not that Sans had  _asked_  for money, but—it had  _certainly paid well_. And it had required very little hours.

 

And wouldn’t another human fall down here eventually?  _Frisk wouldn’t have to know, wouldn’t have to even meet them._

 

Frisk  _deserved_ —So much  _more_  from him. More energy. More time.

 

He wished he didn’t have to work so much. He wondered if the kid just spent the day alone when he and Papyrus were working. And she probably did, didn’t she, with the Monsterbrat out of the picture? That _had to stop_. She couldn’t just spend his entire work day either  _alone_  or with that  _psychotic flower_.

 

And he should probably just go talk to Asgore—

 

He felt a sudden burst of  _frantic need to go to the kid_  and then the timeline ended.

 

 

 

He was in the bright space again. The redhead, Chara, was arguing heatedly with Frisk but Sans was too far away this time to really hear.

 

He took two steps. It was getting easier. Chara saw and they angrily pointed at him. This time, the kid turned her head to look at him and her eyes widened. She looked surprised. Not angry, like Chara was—but surprised.

 

And then Frisk waved at him meekly and Sans heard Chara yell “What are you DOING, waving at  _your_   _mass murderer_!? Are you stupid!? He’s going to _kill us_! Get him OUT!”

 

And then they pushed Frisk again and Sans got  _incredibly angry_  and Chara yelled “DON’T bring him back in here! RESET!!!"

 

And then suddenly he was in bed with Frisk again—she'd SAVEd there while she was with him, he felt  _so guilty_ —and the world came crashing down.

 

He instinctively  _grabbed Frisk_  and then he  _froze all of time_  and then he  _screamed_.

 

He screamed  _so loud_  and he  _just kept screaming_.

 

Pain,  _searing pain_ , his magic  _oozing out of him in waves_ ,  _almost completely_ _out of control_. There were several hiccups where time almost moved forward, when Papyrus almost overheard, and it was almost all Sans could do to just keep that little bit of magic firmly in the timespace—

 

But  _now,_   _Frisk was suffering through the RESETs, too_.  _Now_ , he had to do _more_ , he had to make sure Frisk was alright. And so for some reason he moved on top of her and he—

 

He  _tried hard to stop screaming_ and _he did_.

 

He  _tried hard to just focus on her_ and _he did_.

 

And she looked as if she was in her own world, too, like Sans. Her own hell, like Sans. The kid looked _horrified_ and _betrayed_ and just  _so, so defeated_ —

 

Just  _so, so resigned_ —

 

More memories, probably. They hadn’t come all at once to Sans either. And she _sure looked_ like, by now, she remembered _enough_.

 

And he knew that  _he was probably the reason_ for the defeat in her face but he still  _wanted to kiss her_  and he—

 

And his magic wasn't cooperating with him. He had turned the room blue. The trash tornado was  _getting out of control_  and he  _needed_  to stop, he  _needed to focus_ —

 

_He felt like his bones were on fire_ , but the kid—

 

_His_  kid—

 

She needed him even more than he needed her.

 

He moved his shaking hands to her cheeks and snapped her out of it.

 

"we're together," he groaned out, and  _it hurt_ ,  _it fucking hurt_ —but his soul was beginning to settle and the rush of memories started to die down and he felt better, he felt  _significantly better_ , just holding Frisk. "new timeline, new chance—you said that—right?"

 

And her eyes were so sad when she looked at him. The kid looked— _pathetic_ —

 

A  _deep, vicious part of him_  told him that she  _was pathetic_ , she _was_   _too weak_ to fight him— _If he wanted control_ —

 

He ignored it. He ignored his thoughts. And instead he mustered up all the control over his magic that he could and  _the tornado died down_  and time moved again and then  _he kissed her_. 

 

He told her " _i love you_ , please remember that.  _i love you_.”

 

And then " _please_  don't hate me, kiddo,"  _please._

 

And she let out a deep sigh and she still looked  _betrayed_  and  _defeated_  and _hurt_ but she whispered "I love you, too."

 

And then suddenly he felt the  _urge to see_   _just how much he could get away with_  and, before he knew it, his hand was on her neck.

 

He pushed  _down_. It felt  _good_.

 

And then  _he stopped_  and  _he let go_  and—

 

And he was  _horrified_ ,  _what had he just done?_

 

" _sorry!_   _sorry_ ," he said and then  _he kissed her lips, her cheeks, her neck_. "i wasn’t— _sorry_ , kiddo. i—"

 

“I’m fine. Just calm down,” she whispered. She gently moved her hands to push against his chest and asked him “Did I just see you in the blank space?”

 

He irrationally wondered if he was in trouble.

 

“Sans—how did you get there?” She gently pushed at him again and suddenly he’d grabbed her by the wrists and pinned her down.

 

She tensed, and he could tell she was trying hard to remain passive. "Sans. Are you like this through every Reset?" He let go of her wrists as if she’d burned him.

 

And he wanted to lie and say  _no_.

 

But instead he said "i—i can get more impulsive.  _yes_.  _sorry_."

 

The kid went  _very quiet_ then, almost as if she were analyzing him. She was. And then she said, voice  _very hushed_ —"Is that why you—"

 

He didn't have to listen to know  _exactly what actions of his she was going to ask about_. He cut her off. He  _didn't want to hear it_. And maybe he snapped at her, "I thought we were both pretending that I've never hurt you."

 

And the kid froze under him, and she became  _even quieter_ , and she  _didn’t try to bring it up again_.

 

And Sans was weak.

 

He kissed her again even though he  _knew_  that he  _shouldn't_.

 

“i’m really sorry.” His voice became softer. "i’m sorry. i didn’t want—i hope that didn’t hurt.”

 

And then suddenly he wanted to know, “how did you die, kiddo?"

 

Frisk  _hesitated_. Her voice was small and  _strangely defensive_. "Flowey," she said, and then—"I pushed him," and then—"I'll be more careful this time."

 

And  _he almost pinned her to the bed again with his hand around her neck_  because  _what the fuck_ , she was going to the weed  _again?_

 

" _kid_.  _no_. you are  _not_  going to go see that thing again."

 

"But he wants to hurt Papyrus!" she told him. "I  _have_  to, Flowey's just lonely. I—I screwed up last timeline. It was my fault—"

 

He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to  _yell_  and to  _scream_  because  _of course_  it couldn't be  _her fucking fault_ that the  _psychotic weed_  had killed her off,  _what the fuck_ , how _self-sacrificing_ could she _be_ —

 

She was going to get hurt  _so many times_  if she kept this up and—

 

And wasn’t he  _significantly worse_  than the flower?

 

Hadn’t he done _even worse_?

 

This  _thing_  she did— _blaming herself, sacrificing herself_ —did she also do it— _with him?_

 

Was that what kept her  _here_  and  _in his bed_  and at his  _complete_ , fucked up version of  _mercy_? Was that what kept her  _tied_  to him? He had done  _far worse_  to her than just killing her and  _she was still with him_. Was she applying the same self-sacrificing forgiveness to  _him_  that she was to  _the flower_?

 

Was he _the same_ in her eyes as _that fucking weed_?

 

He was  _too selfish to ask_ ,  _too selfish_  to point it out. And he told himself—selfishly—that he couldn’t _possibly_ be the same to her as the fucking flower, because _she_ loved _him_. _She_ trusted _him_. And so, if anything—he was far, far _worse_ —

 

_Far_ more despicable—

 

And so  _he_   _pretended_ —that he hadn't heard her saying that.

 

Instead, he tried to keep her away from the weed by other means. "stay with me today, kiddo? i don't work until eleven, and papyrus is leaving to undyne's right after breakfast."

 

Frisk’s face paled at that. She sounded frantic, "That's  _exactly_  why I have to go to Flowey!"

 

"it will be fine," he told her, and  _he planted a kiss against her neck_. "come on, kiddo. _please?_ i've _missed_  you."

 

"I  _can't_ ," she told him, but  _he could change that_. He trailed his magic along her waist, her hips...

 

He  _licked her neck_  and she gave out  _the most delicious whimper_.

 

And he was starting to get  _aroused_. He pushed her. "come on. do this for me? we can RESET if anything happens. i'll help. just  _please_ , kiddo?  _please_?  _i really want you right now_."

 

He rode up her shirt and  _she just lay there and didn’t fight him_ and he started massaging the magic up her torso until  _he almost reached her chest_. He licked her ear and  _she seemed to like it._  "sweetheart.  _please?_   _i'll be good_ ,  _i promise_. i  _just want_ —to  _touch you again_. like we used to, remember?"

 

He didn’t give her time to answer. " _you like this_ , you  _know_  you do," he told her, and then he bit her ear and he moved his hands and he was massaging his magic into her hips again. " _please?_  just this once? sweetheart, _kiddo_ ,  _i need this_.

 

"unless of course you want me to  _just kill the weed_ ," he mused, and a part of him wanted that, and the other part—didn't care.

 

He didn't care if the flower lived or died at this point as long as he had her  _writhing under him_.

 

And they had done this before, right? They had done this, and she had liked it, and it couldn't be  _that_  bad— _to do it again_ —

 

"Please don't," she said, and she sounded defeated, but please don't what? Please don't kill Flowey? Please _don't stop_? She _wasn't specific_ , and so _he kept going_...

 

He felt  _the exact moment_  the kid just gave up when she went limp under him.

 

And  _she had done this before_ , given him complete control. He had conquered her like this so many times. He became  _too bold_. He shoved his hand under her pants. And he hadn’t  _ever_  rubbed her clit while simply petting her before, he had saved _that_ kind of boldness for when they were about to fuck—

 

_When she was about to die._

 

But  _now_ , he was about to.

 

And _thank goodness_ that she was wearing his baggy sweatpants.

 

And he wondered how far he could take it without drowning in guilt?

 

He found her spot. The kid suddenly cried out. " _Stop!_ "

 

But the cry was _so hushed_ and so he—

 

Papyrus’ voice called them from the kitchen. “ANOTHER GREAT BREAKFAST IS READY, BROTHER AND HUMAN!!!”

 

Sans groaned.  _He had forgotten that Pap would do that._

 

It was almost 8 AM again. Breakfast spaghetti was ready.

 

Sans forced himself to remove his hand from the kid’s pants. He kissed her cheek. “ _sorry_. _i love you_. maybe some other time?”

 

And he couldn’t help but feel slightly _guilty_ and maybe he had taken things too far again.

 

 

 

"WOWIE, HUMAN! YOU SEEM TO HAVE REALLY LIKED YOUR BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI! WOULD YOU LIKE MORE?" 

 

"Um, no, thanks, Papyrus," Frisk said after she finished chewing her last bite. Sans smiled. She was so well-mannered for a kid. "I'm absolutely full. But thank you."

 

And Sans almost laughed because this time he had noticed how the kid stuffed more than half of her syrup-covered spaghetti into her bag.

 

What a clever child.

 

He loved her.

 

He couldn't help but mouth a _Real breakfast at Grillby's?_ to the kid while Pap wasn't looking at them. 

 

And the kid looked away. She looked uncertain. And Sans knew that she was probably thinking about _that fucking flower_.

 

Or maybe she was thinking about _him_? Was she _scared_ of _him_ now?

 

Sans felt a sudden surge of guilt when he thought of how he had _completely misread her_ earlier. And hadn't he done that at least a little _on purpose_?

 

Sans kept playing with what little spaghetti he hadn't disappeared, and then he muttered into his plate, a bit cryptically because Papyrus would overhear, "no hands this time."

 

And Papyrus said, "WHAT?"

 

"i'm just making myself a promise, pap. gonna sell the hot dogs without touching 'em this time."

 

And Papyrus looked at him with concern and disgust. "DO YOU REGULARLY TOUCH THE FOOD THAT YOU SELL?"

 

Frisk laughed. Her eyes were wide and bright and _she was looking at Papyrus_.

 

But still she said, "sounds like a good resolution."

 

And then she looked at him and she _gave him a small smile_ and she mouthed _Okay._

 

 

 

They hadn't gone to Grillby's together in a long time. Sans found that he had missed her company here, until he caught Grillby staring at him.

  
"hey, b. still pancakes, right kiddo?"

 

And Frisk nodded. At least that much hadn't changed. So Sans grinned and he held up two fingers and said "the usual pancakes, b."

 

And Grillby did not look amused. He looked like he wanted to give Sans a stern talking to. But still he left, and Sans made a mental note to not come back here alone any time soon.

 

Grillby could be scary when he wanted _a word_ with Sans.

 

Breakfast came, and since when did Grillby add free chocolate sprinkles to the kid’s pancakes? The kid had definitely won him over in the months Sans hadn’t been around.

 

They goofed around like usual as they ate. Frisk rolled her eyes at him more than once. And they had a nice enough time, sitting there again together, but something about Frisk felt odd.

 

Her laughs were shorter.  
  
Her smiles were smaller.  
  
And _she rarely_ , if _ever_ , looked at him.

 

 

 

He kissed Frisk on the forehead goodbye and _again_ relived his awful shift in Hotland. _Again_ Sans worried about Frisk. _Again_ he worried about being so far away from Snowdin. _Again_ he considered just quitting his ridiculously many jobs.

 

The dog monster once again bought a hot dog and this time he didn’t think he had anything funny to say.

 

He began to feel tense. If the timeline was going to RESET, it was about to happen soon…

 

And it was _so unfair_ that Frisk would willingly risk her life like that for that stupid flower. Didn’t she ever think about what the RESETs did to _Sans_? They hurt— _they fucking hurt_ —and of course the kid didn’t owe him anything—

 

Dying, to her, probably alsohurt. And yet he had killed her more times than he could count.

 

But still, the anxiety—the ever present dread of facing another RESET at any given moment—it was one of the things—

 

That made him so—

 

So anxious. So desperate. So angry, so lonely, so afraid, so detached. So sad. So tired. So hopeless.

 

It was too much to take at once and he often resented, he _so often resented_ , that the Resets were so tied to the survival skills of an Anomaly who wasn’t even halfway into her teens.

 

_Frisk was just a kid._

And _what was he_ _doing_ , so completely obsessed and so hopelessly and selfishly in love with _just a kid_.

 

 

 

Frisk didn’t come back right away after Sans came home from work. Once again, Papyrus came home before she did. And then Sans read Pap his bedtime story and his brother fell asleep—

 

And there was _no way_ the kid was still with the flower by now. He sensed her in her hiding spot.

 

Sans sighed. The kid still didn’t have that much experience with RESETs and conscious memories. The kiddo was probably having a _bad time_ and was therefore hiding where she so often did.

 

Sans gave her _ten minutes_ , but she didn’t move.

 

It was very dark outside. He began to get antsy.

 

He took out his phone and texted her.

kid, i’m gonna stop by in 5 min – Sans

 

And he gave her enough of a warning. He sensed this was going to be a hard chat. He hadn’t thought back then—all those times he had hurt her—that they would one day come back and bite him in the—

 

Well, the tailbone.

 

And maybe he should just leave her alone and let her sort it out?

 

He let couldn’t do that of course. But wouldn’t it have been nice if he could.

 

Five minutes passed. He went to Frisk.

 

He found her crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH This chapter was SO annoying to write! I am not very happy with it, but at this point I think I'll just post it anyway. SO MANY THINGS ARE GOING THROUGH FRISK'S HEAD and I can't write them because - UGH - San's POV. So a few things, because there is suddenly a bunch of stuff happening all at once:
> 
> \- Frisk isn't getting all her memories back at once. It took Sans years to get to the point where he can remember past timelines as clearly as he does. Frisk will remember everything sooner and easier, because she's so connected to the Resets, but she doesn't remember aaaaabsolutely everything right now at this point. (She remembers enough though. More than enough.)
> 
> \- ALSO FRISK IS TOTALLY NOT COOL WITH WHAT SANS HAS DONE. She forgives him, because she is a sweet selfless cinnamon roll, but ALSO because Sans is, like, at this point, FRISK'S ONLY FRIEND. She's in love with him, she's desperate to keep him, and at this point is either forgive Sans or be alone, because Papyrus is so often either with Undyne or with Sans. It's depressing. She has a very low self worth at this point. And ugh just- she isn't cool with it, but she's super hardcore trying to be. And that is NOT OKAY! And asdfghjhgfds they haven't kissed and made up as much as Frisk is desperately trying to avoid conflict and SANS IS TAKING ADVANTAGE OF THAT AND dgfjkhlhh. Thank you for listening to my rants and woes about being limited to one very self-absorbed character's POV. This Sans is a jackass.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rewrite this so many times. This chapter could have gone SO MANY WAYS. These two are confusing. They don't know what they want, and they are so confusing.
> 
> But anyway here it is.
> 
> Uh, some of this is smut? Yeah...

The kid was crying. That much, Sans had expected, although it didn't hurt him any less.

 

She looked visibly uncomfortable with his presence. He had expected that, too. He had even kind of looked forward to it, had thought maybe  _this_  would be what he needed to finally tear himself away from the kid, had thought maybe  _this_  would be enough for him to finally have some  _shame_  and give into his  _guilt_  and just— _leave_ —

 

Just  _leave_  and  _stay away from the poor kid_ —

 

But apparently he had no such luck.

 

He still was  _inexplicably_ and  _overwhelmingly_  attached to her.

 

And Sans had expected to feel like  _scum_ , when he found her sitting on the ground crying  _so pathetically_ like that. He had expected to feel  _lower than dirt_. And he  _did_ — _he really did_ —but then the kid looked away from him and there was—

 

There was  _shame_  in her, too. There was  _guilt_.

 

And he  _hadn't_  expected—for the kid to wipe away her tears  _as fast_  as she did. He hadn't expected for her to look  _so, so ashamed_. So  _guilty_. So  _dirty_.

 

_So used._

 

But then he reminded himself that at least more than once  _he had made her enjoy it,_ hadn’t he? And maybe they were both just each other's personal hell.

 

Maybe they  _were_  and maybe  _even that_  wasn't enough to tear themselves away from each other, because they were each other's respite too, weren't they? They  _were_  and so they  _needed each other_  even when  _he made them both hurt_  and so Sans gathered up all his courage and his strength—

 

The kid  _wiped away her tears_ —

 

And then Sans sat in front of her. He moved the kid’s hands away from her face and she  _flinched_.  _Shit_. The kid’s eyes stayed firmly focused on the ground beside him.

 

"I thought you said five minutes," she said, rubbing a sleeve against her face, and she sounded  _so childish_ ,  _so small_  and  _so embarrassed_. He leaned towards her.

 

"kiddo, it's  _been_  five minutes," he told her. He cupped her cheeks. He kissed her forehead, and when he pressed a tentative kiss against her soft lips, she  _didn’t refuse him_ and he held in a sigh of relief. “i’m here to check on you.”

 

“I’m  _fine_ ,” she told him, and Sans almost laughed. His kid could be so  _stubborn_ , so  _determined_.

 

He  _loved her_ , but she was _hurting herself_.

 

“frisk, buddy—i may not have eyeballs, but i’m not  _blind_ ,” he told her. “come on, you can tell me. i’ve been through every reset, remember? is this about a bad run? something you did?”  
  
She shrugged.

 

“is this about—something  _i_  did?”

 

She—“It’s  _nothing_. I’m fine. Can you take me to your place? I’m pretty sure the Inn is closed.”

 

He again felt the frantic, protective  _need_  to  _shake some sense into her_. “tv and then bed? with  _me_?”

 

“Sure,” she said flatly, and gave an undignified sniffle. Her eyes were  _dead set on the ground_  and Sans—

 

“ _frisk_. what is  _wrong_  with you. i  _killed_  you. i did  _worse_. stop pretending you don’t remember.”

 

The kid suddenly got up. Her hands were shaking. She grabbed her umbrella. “You know, if you don’t want me to stay over, I can just go knock on the door at the Inn.”

 

He  _pulled her back down to him_  by the wrist. And perhaps it wasn’t wise that he sat her on his lap—

 

It  _wasn’t wise at all_ , she felt  _unbelievably good_ —

 

He held her closer to him, pressed a kiss against her neck. She felt  _so good, too good against him_ —

 

He was  _so often_  tempted by her.

 

He changed his mind about his lap and  _pushed her off of him_  and into the ground and  _got on top of her_  and then  _he_   _kissed her_  and  _they’d had sex in here before_ , did she remember?

 

Could she  _possibly_  like it if they did _that_ again?

 

“of  _course_  i want you to stay over. i  _love it_  when you do,” he told her and he pressed a flutter of kisses down her cheek, her neck—he  _licked_ —she  _gasped_ —his hands went  _blue_  and then he grabbed  _her waist_ —“you have  _no idea_  what you do to me when you decide to sleep with  _me_  in  _my_  bed. but kiddo—”

 

Another  _lick_. A  _small, shy moan_. He let himself push his hips against hers, materialized his cock—

 

He  _licked_  and nibbled her earlobe and then he told her, voice as soft as he could make it, “ _frisk_ , i  _really_  don’t want to ruin this, this time. is this okay?”

 

She stilled. He—he wasn’t proud of it, but he moved his hands down to her hips and pressed her tightly against his erection. He wanted to take—

 

_Her clothes off—_

 

He wanted to  _pull down his pants_ —

 

“ _i love you_ ,” he whispered against her ear, and he was  _so wanting this_ , he was  _so full of lust_ —“i—i know i’ve messed this up before, kiddo, but—if you’re _really_ fine— _do you want—”_

 

She pushedher handsagainst his chest  _oh so gently_  and  _this_ time _, he listened_.

 

He  _stopped_.

 

He pressed  _one last kiss_  against her neck and then he—he wanted to get off of her—

 

He  _couldn’t_.

 

Sans  _loved her_ , but  _he_   _couldn’t_.

 

He kept himself completely motionless on top of her. Their hips were no longer touching. He pressed his forehead against hers. “i’m sorry.”

 

And Frisk was  _completely mute_. Frisk was probably  _never going to talk to him again_.

 

He was—that he would  _try that_   _here_ —where he had raped her—

 

He was despicable.

 

He  _hated himself_.

 

And he _loved her_ , he _really did love her,_ but he—

 

The kid finally spoke, voice so quiet that he could barely hear it. But he made out the words—

 

“You are not—a very good person.” And he froze.

 

“You could be good,” she continued, and she sounded  _so sad, so defeated_ ,  _so tired_  and  _so_ —“You could be  _so good_. But you  _aren’t_ , and I tried  _so hard_ —to  _believe_  that you were.”

 

So  _hopeless_. “I can’t  _believe_  I kept defending you to Chara.”

 

That  _stung_. It  _hurt_. “frisk, i—”

 

“I still love you,” she told him, and it was like  _relief_  and  _dread_  and  _pain_  mixed in him  _all at once_  because  _she wasn’t even  looking at him_ , she wasn’t being herself, she sounded  _so disappointed in him_  and she—“I still love you, but you—Sans, you are such a  _bad monster_ and  _they knew_. Chara kept  _telling_  me.  _Even Flowey_  tried to warn me and I—I kept  _excusing_  you.

 

“I feel  _so stupid_ ,” she said, and her voice was  _so small_ , so _hopeless_ and _so sad_ , it sounded like a confession.

 

He didn’t know if he dared to try kissing her. “kiddo, you—you’re  _not_. you’re  _perfect_. you are  _so smart_  and  _beautiful_  and— _frisk_ , the things  _i did_ —i’m _really sorry_ —i did them because i am  _so in love_  with you, kid. you’re _wonderful_. i’m sorry. i’m  _really sorry_. i didn’t think—i am  _so used_  to having the timeline just RESET, i thought—“

 

He  _didn’t know_ what he thought.

 

He hid his face against her neck.

 

“i  _really do_  just wanted to have _you_ , kid.”

 

She sighed. The kid wrapped her arms around him.

 

It felt like  _such_  a  _bitter sort of forgiveness_  and the act just made Sans feel  _so small_.

 

_So pathetic._

_So filthy._

He  _wasn’t—ever—going to be enough_  for this kid.

 

 

 

He teleported them out of there after she expressed that she hated being inside that cave. She didn’t tell him  _why_ , and yet  _he knew_.

 

It was because of him. It was yet another thing ruined for her because of him.

 

And he didn’t think. He teleported them to his room and  _she winced_.

 

He’d  _fucked her in here, too,_ and now she was alone with him.

He felt so  _guilty_. “look, do you just want to—“

 

“Um—No. This is fine. Thanks. Can we just go downstairs and watch tv for a while?”

 

A pause from him and then she asked him “Is that okay?”

 

“yeah—but  _kiddo_ , are you  _really okay_  with us just—“

 

Her eyes got slightly wet. She looked like she was about to cry again. But then she frowned slightly and she looked _so determined_ and she said—

 

“This is a  _new timeline_.” Her voice was  firm and so determined and just  _so in denial_ that it made Sans _wince_. “This is a  _new chance_.  _I love you_ , so  _please_ —“

 

 _So please let me forget about the other times_ , was what the kid was asking.

 

He knew her  _so well_.

 

And he kind of  _really_  felt tempted to just  _do that_.

 

And if he did as she asked, would that be enough?

 

Would she let them just go back to the way they had been before, if he agreed—if they  _both_  agreed—to just keep pretending he had never hurt her? Would she allow him to _escalate_ , even—if he played his cards right—

 

He felt _so selfish_ for wondering if she would _ever_   _let him fuck her_  if he just waited patiently enough, if he  _touched her_  well enough, if he—

 

If he made her feel  _guilty_  enough—

 

He had done the things he’d done to her, after all, because  _he wanted her_. And shouldn’t she just  _give in_ , if she didn’t want him to  _force her_? Shouldn’t she  _just spread her legs_ —she’d _already done that for him before_ —It couldn’t be  _that_  bad, for her, compared to the past timelines—He could be  _gentler_ —

  
She might even  _love it_.

 

He weighed his options _very carefully_ before he admitted “it might be a new timeline but i’m still the same.”

 

She pressed a kiss to his chin and it sent what felt like butterflies through his chest. She had gotten taller, since they’d met—she was getting close to the point where she would no longer have to stand on her toes to do that. “You can be better,” she told him. “I know you can. Please, Sans? Just try.”

 

He was  _very honest, for very selfish reasons._  “i’m getting tired of trying.”

 

And then her encouragement took on a hint of  _desperation_. She told him "I can help you, you don't have to do it alone. Sans, I can help, I love you—"

 

"i love you too, kiddo," he told her, and he did, _he really did,_ but he was _so tempted_ by her and _what was he doing_ , hoping to get what he wanted out of her like this. His throat went dry. His hand pushed away a few strands of her unruly short hair from her face and was it getting _longer_? Was that even _possible_?

 

 And he couldn't _bring himself_ —to tell her _how badly he wanted to fuck her_.

 

He couldn't tell her _how badly he needed his dick in her_ and to have her under him, _willing_ —or mounted above him, _still willing_ —or on her knees or on all fours or in any possible position _as long as she wanted him_ , as long as she was _eager to let him fuck_ her, as long as _she let him do whatever he wanted to her_ and—

 

And in the end, all he wanted was to not feel _so alone_.

 

In the end, all he needed was _her_.

 

And he _loved her_ but he _wanted_ her and sometimes those two things could be _so incompatible_ —

 

She took his hand. She pulled him down to her.

  


She kissed him _so timidly_ and the kiss was so innocent that he was afraid that he would taint it by his presence alone.

 

He did _more_. He _pulled her to him_ , wrapped his hands across the small of her back. He prodded her mouth open with his tongue. And _this was what he needed_. This was what she was _so hesitant_ to give.

 

He explored every inch of her mouth with his tongue and let his hands roam freely through her body. 

 

She _just_ _took_ _it_.

 

That _encouraged_ him.

 

And then suddenly she was on his bed and he _didn't know how it had happened_ , but his hands were under her shirt.

 

He caught a brief glimpse of her expression and she looked _so resigned_. He looked away and didn't look again.

 

And then he started slowly taking off her pants and he was giving her _plenty of notice_ , but _she_ _didn't fight_.

 

Suddenly she was naked. A flash of blue. He'd gotten impatient again. He felt _guilt_. He was going to end up burying himself too fast into her again.

 

This was _not at all_ how he had wanted his first time to be with Frisk. Not with her looking _so sad_ and _so resigned._

 

He told her so. "this isn't exactly how i envisioned this."

 

And then "kid—are you _sure_?"

 

He felt her face press against his chest. "this isn't bad if i just let you, right?"

  


And _ah_ —She was _a good girl_. _So_ _smart_. _So clever_. She had caught on to what it was _precisely that he needed_ and _yes_ , he _needed_ to have her _just let him_ —

 

And a part of him felt _victorious_ , and another part of him felt _guilt, guilt, guilt_ —

 

This wasn't consent.

 

But _she thought that it was_ , and that was _good enough_ that she would _never_ back away.

 

And he was going to make her feel _so good_ before he took her, that it wouldn't really matter if there was consent.

 

It wouldn't even matter that _she was fourteen_.

 

And this was wrong of him to do. This was very wrong.

 

He moved himself _down_ towards her entrance and forced her thighs apart and she _almost jumped away_ , she _pushed at him_.

 

"What are you _doing_ —!?" she asked him, panicked. Sans almost laughed because in the end she was just _such an inexperienced child_ —

 

He calmed her down with a gentle reassurance that " _shhh_ , you'll _like_ this, i promise, _just relax_."

 

And she didn't quite entirely relax—she was _so tense_ with nervousness and fear—but she didn't exactly fight him and she remained motionless enough for him to press a small kiss against her clit and then he _took out his tongue_ and he _tasted_ her.

 

She tasted _so, so unbelievably good_ and he had _never done this with Frisk before_ , he wished she had given in to him _ages ago_. The kid jumped slightly—maybe she’d flinched?—and she was _so shy_ , _so reluctant_ it was _adorable_ —

 

He took his hands to her hips and _held her down_ and he _licked_ and he _sucked_ and he stuck his tongue inside her—

 

She _cried out_ _his name_. " _S-Sans—_!"

 

He looked up from between her legs and _what a nice view_ , he should end every day like this. And wouldn't it be nice when she finally sucked him off, eventually.

 

 _He could get her to do it_ , he was confident he could—

 

He moved his mouth away from her and _very slowly_ pushed a finger inside of her and _grinned_. "kiddo, sweetheart, you taste _so good_.

 

"do you want me to make you come like this or would you prefer to do that around my cock?"

 

And her face was _red_ with _more than just shame_ when she let out a weak " _W-what?_ " in between all her soft little _gasps_ and _moans_ and—

 

And it _just occurred_ to Sans that the kid couldn't possibly have any idea of what he was talking about. She was completely innocent. Sans himself had insisted on keeping any and all media in the house rated PG or below for Frisk’s and Papyrus’ sake, and she had fallen down here _so young_ —

 

She probably _didn’t even know what he was doing_.

 

It shouldn't have made him _so hard as it did_ to figure that out.

 

He was corrupting her. He _really shouldn't_. He was doing _all sorts_ of things to her that she _wasn't supposed to be doing now_ and _certainly not_ with _him_ and _definitely not coerced_ —

 

 _She was going to hate him_ , when she finally figured out how much he was taking advantage of her. She was going to hate him, but Sans was _so weak_ —

 

He couldn't bring himself to care. He moved himself up and positioned his dick in front of her entrance.

 

She was _so wet_ , it might not even hurt her as badly if he just slammed himself all the way in.

 

And _he was scared_ , he was _really nervous_ , this _wasn't_ how he had wanted his first real time with Frisk _at all._ And maybe he should just go ahead and _slam it in_ and get this over with. Maybe he should just _do it_. I would feel good either way. It had _always_ felt good—had felt _amazing_ —to force her to take him, no mtter how much she cried. He would _still_ come from using her. He could _still_ force her to take him again. She would probably still think she was consenting, and wasn't this brutality _all she knew about sex_?

 

Wasn't this _all he had taught her_? Sex meant _pain for her_ and _unwanted pleasure_ and _bliss taken from her_ , _for him_.

 

He could reinforce that lesson. His cock twitched at the thought. He pushed himself against her, the tip of his dick _started to go in_.

 

He met the usual barrier. It was always nice to find out she’d waited for him.

 

She _shut her eyes tight_ and _braced herself_.

 

His first real time with Frisk and she was _already expecting pain_.

 

Did he _really love her that little_?

 

He _stopped_.

 

He _couldn't do it_.

 

He gave her a kiss on the forehead that was _so chaste_ , it reminded him of _the_ _first and only time_ he had ever kissed her without any underlying impure thought. It had been that time she’d presented a drawing of him, her and Papyrus and told him _how much she loved_ spending time with him and his bro. This had been back when she very rarely spoke any words to him. She had probably been eleven. And he'd treasured that moment, had treasured that drawing, he had spoken to Toriel _for days_ about how _happy_ and _confident_ he was that he could raise this kid and—

 

And back then, he had been _so sure_ Frisk could be more like a child to him. Perhaps not his own, but maybe _like_ his own? He'd caught himself more than once wondering if he could be more like a dad or an uncle to the poor kid who was the cause of the RESETs. With him knowing about the RESETs, it had only seemed fitting that he would take her under his wing, once she remembered.

 

The drawing itself had been erased a million timelines ago.

 

His hopes that he could be _anything but poison_ to Frisk had died when he first noticed _how alluring_ her pink lips suddenly looked.

 

But he could still, _even if he was damaging her_ —he could _still_ at least _hope_ for a few pure moments with Frisk, couldn't he?

 

Just _a few little moments_ that didn't feel _so wrong_. A few little moments that could feel like— _before_.

 

He felt like he was stealing those moments from someone else, someone who might selflessly want the best for her.

 

_Not him._

 

He gave her a soft peck on the lips.

 

"i love you," he told her. "you are _absolutely everything i could ever want_. do you understand that? do you _know_ how much _i want you_? you are _so much more_ than i could ever deserve, frisk."

 

She blushed. He resisted the urge to kiss her again. And there it was again, _written all over her face_ —

 

She was looking at him in a way that a man like him _should_ _never be looked at_ , with so much faith in him and _adoration_ for him that it made him _feel_ —

 

Like he could be _better_ than he could _possibly be_.

 

He ran his fingers through her hair and _they were fingers stained with blood_. The blood of _five humans_ was on him, including _hers_. He couldn't _ever_ be worthy of this kid. And _if she'd seen him_ —

 

If she'd _seen_ the desperate way he'd murdered the girl in the ballerina outfit—

 

If she'd _seen_ the apathetic way he'd taken the life out of the smallest boy with the blue soul—

 

If she had _seen_ the way he had purposefully let the blood coat his bones as he'd killed that one girl who had _begged for mercy_ , how _he had pinned her down as she bled_ and _played with her blood_ and _coldly marveled_ at the slight stickiness of it, how _he had briefly wondered what it might feel like to fuck her_ as she died but had decided against it because she had _looked much too young_ —

 

 _She hadn't been significantly younger than Frisk had been_ when _he had first fucked her._

 

And that other kid. The only one who had fought. Hadn't he been only _at most_ a few years older than Frisk?

 

Would they have become friends, if they had met? Could they have been _more_?

 

And _what would Frisk say_ if she knew that he was considering killing the next human that fell?

 

She would be _horrified_ by him, she would be _disgusted_. There was _so much_ the kid didn't know about him and that Sans _selfishly_ and _cowardly_ kept in the dark.

 

_Whatever it took to keep her tied to him._

 

He forced himself to off of the kid.

 

"i’m sorry. i _really_ don't want to screw this up. you deserve _so much better than me_ , frisk. do you want to just watch tv for now?"

 

Frisk nod came _so immediately_ that his chest hurt from the quick rejection. No supplications to continue, no begging for more... She was _so unlike_ anyone he'd ever slept with.

 

All the _adult women_ he'd ever slept with.

 

And maybe he should consider the possibility of asking the kid _if she minded_ —if he got his sexual needs met somewhere else.

 

He pushed those thoughts aside and focused on Frisk.

 

"i think mettatton's movie marathon is still on. i _know_ you'll hate it. we could make fun of it together."

 

A shy smile. And then suddenly Sans noticed that the kid was still naked. He passed her a t-shirt, a pair of his sweatpants and stared at the floor uncomfortably.

 

He felt like _guilt_ and like _sin_ and like _lust_.

 

"i'll go, uh, make the popcorn."

 

And before the kid said anything, he disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me go sleep now. e_e Also thank you all for all the comments! I really want to answer them but I have 110 unanswered messages in my inbox right now (WHOA! seriously, THANK YOU!) And I've read them all and loved them but I read them on my phone and prefer to answer them on my computer and jeez, I am so sorry, a lot of these comments are really good and I really want to answer them but I haven't had the time this week so SORRY BUT THANK YOU AND I WILL GET BACK TO YOU THANK YOU you are all so nice! [/end of sleepy ramble]
> 
> ALSO there is new fanfic about this thing! (Creeptale...? Creeptale.) It's called Concede by Creepygirl and WOWIE, it's a multi-chapter fic! :D


	24. Chapter 24

The next day, when Sans woke up, the kid was on the far end of the bed and away from him but  _she was still there.  
_  
He moved toward her and pulled her close. He pressed a kiss against her neck and she stirred.  
  
It felt  _almost_  like they were together. As in,  _together_ -together—a _real_ relationship. Perhaps they  _were_? The thought of asking her made him nervous. He had never been in one of  _those_  before and yet with Frisk he _kind of_ wanted to—  
  
She was  _a child_.  
  
But she could  _remember him_.  
  
He felt like such a conflicted mess. He grinded his hips against the kid’s ass.  
  
And  _no_ , he  _really_ _shouldn’t_ be  _doing that_ —  
  
He whispered an “i love you” against the kid’s neck and then he rolled away from her.  
  
And he kind of—he felt  _bad_  about it—but he kind of  _missed_   _the safety net of the RESETs_.  
  
There was no room for error, now. If he wanted Frisk, he couldn’t afford any mistakes.  
  
And he  _really_  had to talk to the kid about keeping things at least  _sort of_  platonic. And he  _really_  had to bring up the idea that maybe he should start getting off with someone else. But  _how_  was he supposed to suggest that to an  _impressionable child_? And did he  _really_  want his kid’s first relationship to start like  _that_?  
  
And what was he _thinking_? It had already started even  _worse_ thanks to him.  
  
_If_  it had even started.   
  
And it—It _shouldn’t_ start. They shouldn’t be having _anything_ , not even this— _whatever it was._  Not until she was  _much older_ , if  _ever_ , because he was always going to be  _significantly older_  than _her_ , wasn’t he?  
  
He was a  _really_   _sick fuck_.  
  
And at this point, should it even  _matter_? At this point, should he even  _care_? He had already done  _so much worse to her_  and she had forgiven him—  
  
_No_ , _no_ , she was actively _denying_  that he had done anything. That was  _much different_ —  
  
He sat up. He got up from the bed.  
  
The kid’s eyes opened slightly. “Isn’t it a little too early for you to get up? Doesn’t your shift start at eleven?”  
  
And there was  _no fucking way_  he was going to Hotland today.  
  
He lied to her. “got an early start today. i’m going to try to sell breakfast hot dogs, see how that goes.”  
  
She groaned at that. Pulled the covers over her head. “Well,  _good luck_  with that,” she told him sarcastically. And then, after a small silence—“I love you, too.”  
  
He kissed the bulky lump of bed sheets that covered her head. He told her he’d see her later today. He went down the stairs. He had breakfast as normal with Papyrus and he couldn’t come up with any puns.  
  
He  _thought_. He was  _deep in thought_. Science or soul collecting?  
  
Which one would be the better job?  
  
If he were to start working as a scientist again, Frisk might be proud of him. She might even be impressed. He briefly daydreamed what it would feel like if she ever helped him button up his lab coat before he went to work. He had always just left it unbuttoned. Had ruined a few shirts with acid in the process.  
  
It might feel good, to be a paid scientist again. It might feel good, to have Frisk be proud of him.  
  
But the hours had been  _so long_. Sometimes, he’d barely made it back to the house before he collapsed, and then he had to get up in the morning and _do it all over again_ —  
  
And Papyrus had suffered so. Sans had  _so often_  blamed himself because he was hardly ever there. He didn’t want that to happen again with Frisk. Spending more time with  _her_ was the reason he wanted to quit his stupid jobs in the first place.  
  
So collecting souls, then.  
  
Easy enough. Simple enough. No actual work needed to be done until  _another human_  fell down and it wasn’t like Sans exactly lacked the experience. It paid well; Asgore was  _always_  so thankful that he wouldn’t have to get his own hands dirty—  
  
Heck, he was even helping a friend. He was helping _King Asgore_.  
  
And he was keeping  _Frisk_  out of trouble because, if she ever somehow made it into the castle during one of her _seventh-soul-here-to-save-all-monsters_ outbursts, he could just  _spank her_  and then have her turn back.  
  
Or maybe  _fuck her_ , if they were at that point by then.  
  
So executioner job, for sure. Collecting souls was the clear winner. Sans’ promise to Toriel had certainly not extended to an  _eighth_  human falling down. And it wasn’t like—he’d  _minded_  the soul collecting—  
  
But this was still a huge deal. This was something that Frisk could  _never, ever find out about_.  
  
And he was doing this for  _her_  and for  _them_  but she could just _never_ , in a _million timelines_ , find out.  
  
She would be  _so disappointed_  in him. Her words still stung as they rang in the back of his mind—  
  
_She could not believe that she had defended him to Chara.  
  
_ He had been  _past defending_. He was a  _bad monster_. He had—  
  
He had  _disappointed Frisk_ , who  _so_ loved him.  
  
He couldn’t do that again and so he  _couldn’t let her find out_  and—  
  
Papyrus sounded deeply concerned. “SANS? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? YOU’VE BARELY SAID TWO WORDS TODAY.”  
  
“uh—sorry, pap. i was thinking about how early it was.”  
  
Papyrus frowned at him. “IT’S ALMOST NINE, SANS.”  
  
Sans put on a huge grin and he shrugged. “too early for me on a sunday. i’m starting to think i shouldn’t sell breakfast hot dogs as a regular thing.”  
  
“YOU’RE DOING WHAT!?” his brother’s voice was laced with disgust.  
  
“gonna try to sell breakfast hot dogs,” he repeated, grin still in place and now slightly more genuine. Then he purposefully muttered, for his own added amusement, “gonna _definitely_ try to not touch them this time.”  
  
“SANS!!!” screamed Papyrus. “YOU CANNOT TOUCH THE FOOD THAT YOU SELL! THAT’S UNHYGIENIC!”  
  
“welp, would you look at the time,” Sans said as he winked. “it’s almost nine. gotta go sell breakfast hot dogs. probably clean ones, this time—”   
  
Pap let out a half-shriek.   
  
“—but i can make no promises. didn’t have time to wash my hands after using the bathroom today, after all,” Sans lied.  
  
Papyrus gave a _full, agonizing shriek_ this time. Sans suppressed a laugh. He waved goodbye to his brother and then ran off before Pap noticed he hadn’t done his dishes— _again_.

 

He would _really_ have to do something extra nice for Papyrus one of these days. Maybe a second “battle armor”?  
  
  
  
He was in the Core as soon as he walked out the door and then suddenly Sans had quite a bit of time to kill.  
  
King Fluffybuns was usually a morning person—unlike Sans—but he was still not usually in his garden until at least after nine.  
  
Sans checked the time on his phone.  
  
It was eight fifty-seven.  
  
He would give the King about twenty minutes. He decided to text Frisk to kill time.

I’m bonely without you, kid – Sans

 

He wondered if he should have a glamburger and then decided against it. Sequins in a hamburger were not his favorite thing. Instead he just messed around with Burgerpants. He kept trying to sell him hot dogs. That kid was so hilarious, he should try doing standup or something. Or maybe his hilarity was not intentional? Either way, Sans was fond of the kid.

 

He briefly wondered what he himself had been like as a teen. He couldn't remember.

 

He couldn't remember what it was like to be as young as Frisk.

 

And there was _so much wrong_ to what he was doing to Frisk. He had _so much more experience_ than her, and she was— _a kid,_ she was _just a little kid_. And she was _so good_.

 

So _sweet_.

 

So _kind_.

 

So _beautiful_.

 

And he was—he was a lot worse than she was. He was lower than dirt. He was _pain_ and _blood_ and _agony_ and _death_ —

 

They _didn't belong together_.

 

But _he was selfish_ and he _so wanted her_ —

 

The kid texted him back.

 

Frisk - Papyrus is mad cause you didn't tell him I had spent the night

 

Sans laughed.

 

too late for him to make another batch of his great spaghetti? - Sans

 

Frisk - Lol. You ass.

Frisk- He's making some right now before he goes.

 

what? where is he going? - Sans

 

Frisk - Undyne's, where else?

 

Something twitched inside Sans' chest. He _hadn't known_ Papyrus would do that. The kid was going to spend the morning _alone_ , after he'd found her _crying_ last night?

 

He wasn't about to let that happen to his kid.

 

i love you. stay home after he leaves - Sans

operation breakfast hot dogs looks like a complete failure - Sans

i'll be there soon - Sans

 

And then he materialized in front of King Asgore's garden. He looked at his clock. 9:10. Close enough to twenty minutes.

 

A wave of relief washed over him when he found the king in the garden. The garden itself was a nice enough place, full of color and filtered sunlight. Sans hadn’t been there in a while. The goat monster looked happy to see him. He greeted him as he watered his field of golden flowers.

 

"Sans! Howdy! What a nice surprise. Would you like some tea?"

 

"no, thanks, king a. just dropping by to tell you that i changed my mind about the souls. I can get the last one, if you still want me to."

 

Asgore's eyes widened with surprise and _with relief_. "Sans, that is some news. Are you sure…?"

 

Sans shrugged. "yeah, why not. i know how much you hate doing it, but being made of _bone_ ”—he winked—“it doesn't really _get on my nerves_ , if you know what i mean." And he was _joking_ , only he _wasn’t_. And Sans really didn’t like feeling so _heartless_ — _hah_ —but he felt _no remorse_. He felt _nothing_.

 

Just _one more_ human and that would be that. Sans was nothing if not pragmatic.

 

The king let out a short, startled laugh. “If you really mean it, the job is yours. I really appreciate you doing this. I know from experience… It’s not… a nice job.”—he paused for a moment and Sans was _sure_ that he was recollecting his two souls, he wondered what it was like to feel _regret_ —“I’ll tell Undyne that your job title has changed, if that is really what you want.”

 

“uh, actually please don’t tell anyone. i wouldn’t want for pap to know what i was up to.”  
  
King Asgore didn’t question him, and Sans knew he understood. “Of course. And as for payment, would the usual amount…”  
  
Sans almost laughed. “ya know, if you just paid our rent and my tab at grillby’s, i would be more than happy with that.”  
  
“Just that? But—”  
  
Sans waved him off. He trusted the King. “yeah, i’m not complaining about whatever you choose. just pay me what you want. it’s all going to papyrus anyway.” _And Frisk._

He disappeared before Asgore insisted on talking about a salary because _ugh_ , that was too much effort to think about.

  
  
  
He found the kid in the living room looking through one of his books on quantum mechanics.  
  
It—It _really_ turned him on to see her doing that.

 

“heya, kid.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead before plopping himself down on the couch next to her. “you thinking about learning about the wonderful world of physics?”  
  
Frisk snorted. “More like I got tired of groaning at your _super lame_ joke books. I can’t really understand _any_ of this.”   
  
“well, let’s see,” he said, and pulled the kid closer to him so that she was leaning against his chest. He kissed her again on the back of the head before looking over her. “what do we have here? you’re reading about the electron spin! d’you know what an electron is?”  
  
“Um—I think so,” she told him, but she sounded unsure.  
  
How old had she been when she’d fallen down here again? Ten? Toriel had once said she’d built up a curriculum for the kid, but somehow Sans doubted that it was heavily focused on more than the most basic science.

 

_And the kid was fourteen._

 

Had he dropped the ball, here? Should he be teaching her algebra right now and algebra based classical physics and basic chemistry or something? Toriel had never _said_ —

 

But then again he had been too busy _trying to fuck the kid_ to worry about _homeschooling_.

 

He felt like the world’s worst—

 

_Ugh_ — _guardian_.

 

He kept talking to Frisk about physics.  
  
“do protons, neutrons and electrons ring a bell?” he asked her.  
  
“Like, parts of an atom?”  
  
He kissed the top of her head and thanked his lucky stars that his kid had _at least_ been taught what an atom was. “yes! _very good_. now spin is just a type of angular momentum. d’you know what momentum is? it’s basically what keeps objects moving after you apply a force. now, a force is—d’you know what a force is?”  
  
“You, um, lost me at ‘angular momentum’.”  
  
“oh. sorry. i’m not good at explaining things. this book isn’t very good either. if you want to learn more about spin, i have a better textbook—” He was _hopeless with children._  
  
“Um. _No_. That’s quite alright.  To be honest, this is kind of making my brain hurt.”  
  
He wrapped his arms around her, rested his head on top of hers and _whined_ , “but now i _want_ to teach you.”  
  
She scoffed dramatically. “Are you _really_ trying to pressure me into _learning_ _physics_?”  
  
“shouldn’t you know, as the anomaly?” he asked. He _immediately_ regretted asking. That sounded— _way_ too clinical. “i mean— _sorry_ —i mean, you’re the one causing all the RESETs, maybe if you understood the nature of what you were altering—”

 

“Sans, I _don’t do it on purpose_.”

 

And that was that.  
  
He wasn’t about to fight her on it.

 

Or maybe he _was_. This wasn’t just _her_ life she was messing with. “well, maybe you _should_ try to do it on purpose. if you really have that much power, you should _at least_ try to learn to _control_ it.”

 

“I can’t _control_ when I _die_ ,” she argued with him. The lights of Sans’ eyes rolled inside his eye sockets. It was _Smartass Teenager Frisk again,_ here to annoy the _fuck_ out of Sans.

 

“you’ve died climbing up _trees_ ,” he reminded her. “you’ve died trying to befriend _psychotic flowers_. you know, if you just stayed _close to_ _me_ —”

 

“ _Right_ ,” she said sarcastically, “because it’s _so much better_ when _you_ kill me.”

 

He hated the way she was _so right_. She hadn’t entirely let go of his sins like she pretended. “i can protect you,” he said angrily. He bit back an insult. “you _know_ i can, if you’d just _listened_ to me _half the times_ you wouldn’t have _accidentally died_ nearly as many times as you have.”

 

“I haven’t _accidentally died_ that many—”  
  
“roughly _thirty percent_ of your independent deaths have been accidents,” he told her, once again rolling the lights of his eye sockets. She was _so stubborn_. “forty percent have been battle-induced. twenty percent unknown. ten percent other. i’ve kept _track_.” He’d been _studying_ her.

 

She caught on quicker than he had thought she might. “My ‘independent deaths’? Are you really seriously _telling_ me this? You mean the deaths that _you didn’t cause_ , right? How can you be so—”  
  
She went quiet. And it _really_ wouldn’t do to have her being _this emotional_ over his research. She was _never_ going to learn more about the RESETs that way. And maybe he had overestimated how much he could teach—

 

He felt like _a jerk_. He _almost_ understood her and yet _he_ _didn’t_.  
  
She moved away from him. The kid looked like she was almost literally biting her tongue. She didn’t _want_ to fight him. And that was fine.

 

Suddenly Sans noticed how quiet the room was. He changed the subject.

 

“how come the tv is off?”  
  
The kid still sounded angry but she said “ _Ugh_. Infomercials.”  
  
He shared her disapproval. Nothing good was ever on tv this early. And then he felt the sudden _want_ to start _kissing her—_

Maybe there were _other ways_ they could blow off the tension between them.  
  
The kid suddenly asked: “How come you’re back so early?”  
  
He was very honest in his dishonesty. “breakfast hot dogs was the worst idea i ever had.”  
  
She let out a _short laugh._ “Of _course_ it was.”  
  
And then he gathered up his courage and he moved towards her, hands to her waist, pressed a kiss against the side of her neck. “ _mmm-hmm_.”

 

She stiffened. “Sans—”  
  
“i missed you,” he told her, and he pressed another kiss, and then another, and his magic was starting to _act up_ … “i don’t want to fight. please? i just want—”  
  
She picked the book up again and it was a _dirty move_ , it was _really dirty_ , she flipped it open to a random page and pointed at the first thing she saw—Euler’s number. “What does this _e_ stand for?”  
  
He groaned against her neck. “that’s the base of a natural logarithm. it's basically 3.”  
  
“3? Why not just write down 3?”  
  
“ _look_ , kid, i’m _really_ horny—”  
  
She picked at his pride, it was a _really_ dirty move. “I thought you were good at this science thing.”

 

He pulled himself off of her. “ _jeez_. it’s not _really_ 3\. it’s—a _very_ long number. a constant. roughly 2.72, not like it _matters much_ , if you’re dealing with very high or very small orders of magnitude.”  
  
“Why does it keep showing up everywhere?”  
  
“it’s—a _very_ important number. _look_ , kiddo, i don’t mind this some other time, but if you’re faking interest right now to distract me from—”  
  
She _was_ trying to distract him. “Teach me math?”   
  
And that—that _really_ backfired for the kid, if she was trying to keep him off of her.  
  
He _lunged_ at her.  
  
She gave out a little _squeak_ but he quickly muffled it with his magic against her lips, his tongue down her throat, his hands on her waist and _he was so, so turned on_ by the idea of _little apprentice Frisk_ learning _from him_ and he had to _stop_ —he had to _stop himself_ —no sex, _no sex_ — _don’t_ _fuck_ this up—

 

A _sharp little moan_ against his mouth when his hands began rubbing circles of blue magic under her shirt. And suddenly she got _very bold_ , she was _kissing him back_ —

 

This was _bad_ , this was _very bad_ —

 

He was _on top of her_ and he felt her roughly hit his chest with a closed fist and she was probably _still angry_ at being talked about like _the Anomaly that she was_ , but then she _stuck her hands under his coat—_ they moved _down_ and _under his shirt_ —

 

And he didn’t think that she had _ever done that_ to him before—

 

But if she wanted _angry sex_ , he _could_ _give her that_ —

 

He had his own far more selfish reasons to be _pissed off_ at her, too. He was still pretty pissed about the flower and the last RESET. And he was honestly quite _angry_ that he had to be subjected to _extreme pain_ and _erased timelines_ and yet _more isolation_ just because _a 14 year-old kid_ _couldn’t fucking keep herself alive_ and—

 

And this wasn’t just _the Anomaly_ , this was _Frisk_.

 

He forced himself to break _away_ from her and _she pulled him back in_.

 

He _so badly wanted her_ and yet he felt like _her skin was fire_. _She_ _kissed_ him. More aggressively this time. Her hands moved up his vertebra.  
  
And _what the fuck_ — _that felt_ _so good_ —

 

He was able to stop returning her kisses for long enough to say “ _shit_ , kid— _stop_.  
  
“do you want to _get fucked_?”

 

And he was about to warn her that she _had_ _to_ _stop_ , that _he was_ _weak_ , when she made him feel an _incredible panic_ by angrily telling him “So what if I _do_?”  
  
She pushed him. She _hit_ him. She _pulled him back down to her again._  
  
“Every time I remember having sex, it’s with _you_ , and I _never_ have a _choice_. Do you know how that _feels_?” She started crying then, she really _was crying_ , and _oh fuck_ —he was _still turned on—_ what was _wrong_ with him. “I feel _dirty_. _Disgusting_. I _don’t want_ to feel this way. I _hate_ it.” He tried to pull away. She pulled him back again, she kissed his chin—she—

 

_Oh, god, she licked his vertebra_ — _his cock was fully formed now_ —

 

She was doing _everything_ _she could_ to turn him on and _it was working._  


“I don’t want _that_ to be what the last time I had sex is like. I’d rather _die_ , but _I can’t do that._ ” She pushed him again. She tried to take off his coat. He made the _big mistake_ of starting to kiss her neck because he had gotten _so horny_ and she _sobbed_.

 

She _sobbed into his coat_.

 

He _stopped_.

 

She started _begging him in between sobs to fuck her_.

 

He—

 

He felt _sick_.

 

This wasn’t _right_.

 

He had made a bigger mess than he could possibly fix.

 

There was just— _no way_ —he could fix this. There could be no happy ending with Frisk.  
  
And when that realization crashed down on him he _really wished_ he could die with Frisk too.  
  
“kiddo, i—i _know_ you don’t want this,” he told her.

 

And he felt _dead_. He felt _really dead_. She had been _everything that he could ever hope for_ and just like that _the hope was gone_.

 

He admitted “maybe we should stop being friends. i don’t think we ever were.”

 

She _held on tightly to him_ by his coat. “If you leave me, then I’ll be alone.”

 

He wanted to force out a laugh but he _couldn’t_. “kiddo, i’m _poison_. you’re _better off_ alone than with me. just look at all i’ve _done_ to you.”

 

She clung to him. “You were _so nice_ ,” she told him. Her voice was small and it sounded like _begging_. “You were _so nice_ , why can’t we just go back to _that_?”

 

“kiddo, we can’t—”  
  
She yelled at him “ _Why do you all_ _leave me_??”—and then she cried—“Why can’t I be what you want? Sans, I’ve _been good_ — _I forgive you,_ I’ll be better, _so_ _please_ — _PLEASE,_ _please_ , _please_ —”

  
And she sounded—

 

_So pathetic_ —

 

That he felt like _worse than dead_.

 

And he couldn’t even go through with _this_.

 

He kissed her forehead. He wiped her tears away. And he told her, _very gently_ —“do you want to try another RESET?”

 

She looked up at him and she looked _so sad_ and yet it was _even worse_ how his offer gave her hope.

 

“we can both pretend that we forgot this happened,” he told her. “start a new timeline. who knows, maybe you’ll even really forget.”

 

And her eyes went wide with hope at the offer but her voice was small when she shyly said “Dying hurts.”  


He offered a compromise. “how about a pretend RESET, then?”

 

She looked at him with eyes _so wide_ and curious and _she looked just like she had when he had first explained to her what anime was, so many timelines ago_.

 

_She was still so young. She was still just a child._

He tucked some loose strands of her hair behind her ear and cupped her cheek and said “how about we both go to sleep. i know it’s still early but we can _pretend_ to sleep.”  
  
He kissed her nose. He kissed her forehead. “and then we wake up, and we can both pretend this never happened. we’re both completely clueless. we still think this could ever work.”

 

He pressed his forehead against hers. He didn’t quite dare kiss her lips. “would you like to try that? sweetheart?”

 

She hugged him _close_. She told him “I love you _so much_.”

 

Then she said “I _do_.”

 

He kissed her cheek.

 

She held his hand.

 

They went upstairs and they fell asleep or at least _pretended,_ she snuggled so close next to him.

 

And then hopefully when it was time to wake up the world would be slightly better again. Maybe they could keep doing this for at least a while. But Sans would _cheat._ He couldn’t help it. He _so wished_ that he could, but he was always able to hold on to memories after each RESET.

 

And he _still_ _knew_ , even if the kid didn’t, that this couldn’t _ever_ work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;_;
> 
> (This is not the end.)


	25. Chapter 25

He wasn't surprised that he managed to fall asleep, but when he woke up, he didn't feel any better.

 

He felt considerably  _worse_.

 

Frisk was with him. She was snuggled up against him with her face against his chest. And he'd fallen asleep holding her, and this was—

 

This was  _supposed_  to be a great thing to wake up to. Holding her close usually made him feel _so_ happy. _She_ made him _so happy_.

 

But today it felt like he was being tormented with a glimpse of something that  _he couldn't have_. He _wasn’t meant for her_. He was _stealing_ these moments _from_ her.

 

The kid stirred and she looked up at him. Her eyes were slightly puffy. She  _hadn't_  been sleeping, but he didn’t point that out.

 

He felt like  _sin_. She looked at him with  _so much trust_ , even after all the disappointment. And Sans  _wanted_ —He _had_   _only wanted_  to be with her. And that had been wrong. That had been  _very wrong_  and _very_ selfish of him. He didn't deserve someone as good as Frisk. He didn't—He  _shouldn't have taken_  someone as good as Frisk.

 

He  _deserved_ to be  _alone_  for all he’d done to Frisk.

 

And maybe that's why she fell down as young as she did? As a sort of warning that they were not meant to be?

 

He'd ignored it. He'd ignored the warning. And now, because of his selfishness, because of his  _stupid impatience_ , when the kid finally caught on to it, she would realize that they couldn't even be friends. That they had  _never_  been friends. And she would feel more than betrayed, she would _hate him_. Sans would go back to being alone.

 

And the kid would be forced to be completely alone too, caught in her own parallel hell full of RESETs. And he wouldn’t be there to help her, like he’d wanted. Wouldn’t be there because he’d been harmful and  _sick_. Discarded. And maybe she’d even grow up to be as awful as him.

 

Just _as awful as him_ , corrupted by him, she who was _so pure_ , _so good_ , _so MERCYful_.

 

He _didn't deserve her_.

 

And yet he couldn’t help but brush his fingers through her hair. He whispered the "i love you" that he  _knew_  he  _shouldn't say_.

 

And maybe it would have been better if he'd just stayed asleep. Maybe it would have been better if he  _just died_. He hadn't felt that way in a very long time, not since the third or the fourth time that he had met the Anomaly, but  _maybe_ —

 

Maybe  _no one would miss him_ , this time, if he just stayed in bed for _a very long time_.

 

Maybe _no one would miss him_ , this time, if he finally _gave in and died_.

 

The kid smiled at him, a smile both shy and sweet. She told him "I love you too" and he felt—he felt _moderately happy_. He was  _stupid_   _enough_  to believe her.

 

_Stupid enough to believe her_  because he  _so, so badly wanted it to be true_.

 

He was  _weak_  and so he kissed the top of her forehead. The kid wiggled against him, moved her face closer to his.

 

She kissed him on the chin. Sans kissed her on the lips.

 

And he—he didn’t  _plan_  it—he wasn’t  _that_  twisted—

 

_(Was he?)_

 

But the kiss turned into  _more_.

 

Suddenly his tongue was in her mouth. The kid was kissing back. There was a  _needy, desperate hunger_  between them and

 

He had a hand full of blue magic roaming under the kid's shirt.

 

The kid was trying to get his coat  _off_.

 

He helped her take it off.

 

And then her hands under his shirt and he was made only of bone, she  _knew_  he was, would she really mind it if his shirt was off? She’d have  _virtually_   _nothing_  to hold on to—He  _knew_  how much she liked holding on to the front of his coat—

 

For a brief moment, he felt inadequate. He wondered if someone as pretty as her could even begin to find him attractive.

 

And she didn’t seem to mind that he was _just a hollow skeleton_ because she started lifting his shirt. He felt an irrational sort of relief, and  _what was he doing_.

 

This was going  _too fast_ , entirely  _too fast_.

 

She became more aggressive. So did he. He  _bit her neck_  and she gave out a sharp cry that  _turned into a moan_  and  _this wasn't love_ , this thing they were doing.

 

This was just casual, meaningless sex.

 

This  _was sex_  to Frisk. This is what  _he'd taught her_  that sex was: something _desperate_ and _wrong_ and  _shameful_.

 

And the worst part was, he himself had never actually experienced _the_   _other kind_ —to teach her the best that sex could  _be_.

 

A flash of blue and they were naked. He was going too fast and he couldn’t help it. He felt  _hopeless_. He felt _needy_. He felt _grief_.

 

She'd  _told_  him that she hated the way he'd made her feel the other times he’d done this to her. Doing this again wasn't going to make the kid feel better. Doing this again would only make her feel  _worse_.

 

But he was  _hopeless_ ,  _sad_  and  _lonely_  and  _why fight it_. She was bound to hate him either way. Maybe he should just _give up_  and give her what she thought she wanted. Maybe he should just _take_ — _what little he could get_ from Frisk.

 

And someday, maybe, she might find someone who  _did_  love her the right way. Someday, maybe, he'd be  _just_   _a nasty memory_  to Frisk.

 

Just a  _nasty, worthless memory_  of a time she got  _taken advantage_   _of_  and  _hurt_.

 

And maybe she’d look back and hate to think of him. Or maybe she would think that he _wasn’t worth thinking of at all_.

 

But  _she_  was—his _best_ memory.

 

A nervous, involuntary flicker of blue. His cock almost disappeared. He had to fight to keep his magic under control, if he wanted to—If he  _really_  wanted—

 

He  _didn’t really want_ —

 

He kissed her and he rubbed his magic into her and she was moving her hands along his bones too, along his ribcage and his vertebra and his pelvis. And it felt— _his body_  felt good.

 

_His soul felt so bad._

 

She wanted him for  _all the wrong reasons_  and he—

 

He was  _too weak_  to fight it. He decided to just give in.

 

And this was  _the only thing_  he could ever have from Frisk.

 

Just  _a meaningless fuck_  before she hated him.

 

She  _very gently_  hit him with a closed small fist and he could  _tell_  she was trying not to cry, _did she hate him already?_

 

And it was best to just go ahead and get this over with. It was best to just go ahead and do it. He positioned himself and tried hard not to care, tried hard not to think about it. But then she _froze_   _with fear_  and said, “Go slow!” And it—it sounded like a direction, like she  _wanted_  to be in control this time. But this wasn’t going to  _undo anything_.

 

He’d still fucked her more than once against her will.

 

He’d still killed her more than once and had betrayed her.

 

And no amount of telling herself she was  _choosing_  this, no amount of  _illusion of control_ , was going to undo what he had done.

 

He’d still come. She probably wouldn’t. And she’d feel _even more_ used, _even more_ dirty, _even more_ disgusting. She’d hate herself and she would hate him _even more_.

 

He obeyed. He  _slowly pushed himself inside her_  just like she told him. It felt good. It felt  _very good_. He wasn’t going to lie, _he was enjoying this_.

 

He  _hated himself_.

 

And the kid felt  _so tense_  and uncomfortable under him. This part meant  _pain_ , she’d  _learned_  it was, learned it  _from him_ —

 

There was more than just a slight resistance but it was getting easier. He kissed her forehead. He didn’t know why. He _didn’t know why_ he _always insisted_ on kissing her forehead, like he could be sweet to her.

 

_Like he could be worthy of her._

And that was a lie. It was a _disgusting, filthy lie_. He _would never_ be good, _would never_ be worthy, _would never_ be sweet.

 

The kid started crying.

 

The room went blue. He froze on top of her. And she told him, in a _miserable tone_ , “ _Keep going._ ”

 

He wasn’t even halfway in. It hadn’t even completely begun. And she was  _already crying_ , and yet  _she insisted_ —

 

_Why had he even woken up to this?_

He thought about just  _slamming it into her_.

 

_And this was not what he had wanted from her._

 

He mustered up his courage and _his_ _selfishness_ and said “kiddo—i love you—this is hell.

  
  
“can we  _please stop_?”

 

But the kid looked so determined. So _eager to get this over with_. So _disbelieving that he could really stop_ —it _broke his heart_ —he _felt_ _so_ _worthless_ —

 

A loud knocking on the door startled them both before she answered him. Frisk gave a little shriek. Sans' trash tornado sprang back to life and proceeded to go into overdrive.

  
  
“HUMAN? IS THAT YOU?” It was _Papyrus_ ; he sounded concerned. “ARE YOU WITH SANS? I SAW HIS MAGIC.”

  
  
He had a  _horrifying moment of clarity_  during which Sans was  _intensely aware_  that both he and _his_ _fourteen-year old kid_ were _naked_.

 

He frantically started to put his pants on. The kid just sat frozen in place. And he wanted to snap some sense into her, to tell her  _shit, kid, hurry up and put some clothes on_ —

 

But he wasn’t exactly in the state of mind to whisper it. And  _what if Papyrus overheard?_

_He put on his shirt._ “HUMAN?”

  
  
A  _flash of blue magic._  “SANS?”

  
  
And suddenly the kid was hidden under a small mountain of laundry and bed covers. Sans frantically went to open the door. He found Papyrus about to knock again.

 

And  _he didn’t know how_   _he did it_ , but his voice was steady and relaxed when he greeted him. “hey, pap.”

  
  
“SANS! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? I SAW YOUR MAGIC, BUT YOU SHOULD BE AT WORK. ARE YOU ALRIGHT? WHERE IS THE HUMAN?”

 

“i’m fine, pap,” Sans told him. “i quit the hot dog job today. or i got fired? i dunno.”

 

“YOU WHAT!?” Papyrus yelled. “SANS! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE GOING TO QUIT? THIS IS GREAT NEWS FOR MONSTERKIND! YOU’RE FINALLY GOING TO STOP SELLING THOSE DISGUSTING TOUCHED HOT DOGS!”

 

Sans forced a grin and a snort. “gee. thanks, pap. glad you’re taking it so well.”

 

“SANS, I DON’T SEE THE HUMAN. I THOUGHT I HEARD HER SCREAM? IS SHE HERE? SHE ISN’T DOWNSTAIRS.”

  
  
A _very frantic nervousness_ settled in his chest. “uh, yeah. i moved her here, she’s under the covers. found the kid sleeping on the couch.”

  
  
“OH…” Papyrus looked— _not entirely unsuspicious of him_. Or was that just Sans? It was probably just Sans. Papyrus was a good person, like Frisk. Not twisted, like him. Papyrus would _never suspect_ —

 

_That_ _Sans had just been in the middle of fucking his own kid_.

 

The sudden realization that _that was exactly what he’d been doing_ left a strong bitter taste in his mouth.

 

He felt like _throwing up_.

 

He distracted his brother before Pap caught on to his _shame_ and _disgust_. “back from undyne’s, pap? did you get better at making that ravioli pasta? not that i think that would be possible…”

  
  
“AS A MATTER OF FACT, I DID GET EVEN BETTER!”

 

“whoa, no way. i’d love to try some of your even better ravioli. the kid, too, when she wakes up. we could make it into a little party?”

  
  
Papyrus looked ecstatic at that, the human temporarily forgotten. “THAT IS AN EXCELLENT IDEA! I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, WILL GO MAKE SOME RAVIOLI FOR US RIGHT NOW!!”

 

And then Pap ran excitedly downstairs as Sans weakly cheered him on with a “woooooowww pap you’re the best bro” and closed the door.

 

He locked it again.

 

And _shit!_  That had been _dangerously close_.

 

The kid’s voice reached him from under the covers. She sounded just as shaken by Pap's sudden appearance as Sans felt. “…Sans? Did you really quit your hot dog stand?”

 

“yeah.” He went to her and collapsed on the floor, his back against the bed. “this morning, actually.”

 

Frisk managed to free her head from underneath the covers. She looked—her eyes were still red and puffy. She looked like she’d seen hell.

 

Sans felt an _awful_ _amount_ of _guilt_ _and_ _shame_.

 

She asked, “why did you quit? i thought you needed the job.”

 

“nah. we’re fine, don’t worry about it kid,” and he _really wasn’t lying now_. “it just got boring after a while. i wanted to spend more time with you.”

 

And she got quiet,  _very quiet_ , at that. And she looked at him in a way that made him feel self-conscious.

 

He finally gathered enough courage to ask "are you mad at me, frisk?"

 

Another pause. She scooted towards him. "No." She kissed his forehead. “I just—Sometimes you make me feel... like I matter a lot to you, you know? You make it hard to not like you.”

 

And he would _definitely_ never tell her he could only quit because he’d signed up to collect one last soul today.

 

He knew the answer to his question but he still asked her: "do you wish you didn't like me, sometimes?"

 

A _very short pause_. A _very flat tone_. And Sans _knew she had lied_ , when she said " _No_."

 

He sighed. He told her “i'm really sorry about our failed attempt at sex."

 

And the kid flushed a deep red because she was _so innocent_ , was he making her uncomfortable by trying to talk about it?

 

"It's—It's fine—"

 

"no, it's not. listen. i didn't want—i want to explain why i asked you to stop. it isn't that i don't want you. _i do_. i _always_ do. we just— you deserve _so much better than this_ , kiddo. and i wish i could give it to you but _i can't_. you probably know that. and i know you're trying to act like you want this—"

  
  
She tried to fight him. “I do!”

 

"you _don't_. you _really don't_. frisk— _you were crying_. this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. i know that’s how—it’s _been_ , but—"

 

"I think my choices are up to me," she told him. She sounded _so stubborn_.

 

_So in complete-fucking-denial_.

 

He was _so frustrated_. And the words just poured out. "for _asgore's sake_ , kid. this is _not_ a choice you’ve made. this is you deciding to _force yourself to fuck me_ because you don't think i can hold back long enough before _i_ start forcing _you_.

 

“and you know what, you're probably right. you're probably right. i'd _love_ to make you fuck me. i'd make you _love me_ if i could. does that make you feel better? to know that you're right? i _really_ am—a _bad monster_ —and _you're_ _a fucking angel_ , aren't you? _fuck_ , kid. _goddammit_. if you _at least fought back_ —if you only weren't—as good—”

 

He fought. He fought back his magic. He fought _himself_ and he fought _her_ because _she was just quietly listening to him_ , her expression so _forgiving_ and _patient_ and _unjudging_ , and he didn’t deserve—he _couldn’t even understand_ — _this bullshit_.

 

He lashed out at her. "this isn't MERCY, kid. this isn't—this _isn't kindness_ , this thing you're doing. every moment you spend with me, you're just dragging me further to hell. you’re just tempting me more, making it worse. and i _hate_ —that i'm at _your_ MERCY—”

 

She gently moved to hug him. He forced himself to back away. " _don't_. _please_ just don't. i am _so weak_ , kid. i _still_ want to—i still want to fuck—” And _how fucking sick_ was _he_?

 

“look. i'm sorry. i’m _really sorry_ , kid. _please?_ just—just forget i said anything. let’s forget we did this. i just want to go back—”

  
  
She _very softly_ interrupted him and he _hated the way her voice made him weak_. “I want to move forward,” she told him, and she was _very calm_ , now, her voice was _very soothing_ —

 

He wondered if she was this calm and soothing because _he needed her to be_.

 

“I know you can be good. I know you can be better. Sans, I want to help—I _do_ love you. I’m—I’m sorry I got mad,” she said, and _what_ on _Earth_ was she _apologizing for_ , she was—“I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll be better, so _please_ don’t—”

 

He let out a _weak_ , _bitter_ laugh. “you _really_ hate yourself, don’t you, kid?”

  
  
And he didn’t have to look at her to know he’d zeroed in on _what exactly it was_ that was _so wrong with her_. “you came here to die, but i won’t let you go to asgore. so it’s gotta be me that kills you, right? am i right? maybe not _literally—_ ”

 

Their time was up. Papyrus was calling them to lunch from the kitchen.

 

Sans got up. He still felt sick. He _noticed that his shirt was put on backwards_.

 

A flash of anxiety. _Had Papyrus noticed?_ He started fixing his shirt. The kid still wasn’t moving.

  
  
“i’d get dressed if i were you,” he told her. “once i go downstairs, i can’t guarantee that papyrus will knock. unless you’ve finally decided to _tell on me_.

 

“because you _do_ know, right? how wrong this is? i shouldn’t have _ever_ touched you. you _know_ that, right?”

 

He moved to grab his coat but found that she was holding on to it.

 

And the kid didn’t look like she wanted to let go. He let out a defeated sigh. His voice softened.

 

“look, kid— if you don’t want to go downstairs… that’s fine. i’ll come back to you. is that what you want?”

  
  
She nodded. She _very meekly_ nodded.

 

And this was _mute_ Frisk. _Shy_ Frisk. _Lonely_ , _desperate for love_ Frisk.

 

The kid he’d _met_.

 

She was _too good_ a child _, self-sacrificing_ Frisk. Willing to keep herself under Sans’ _non-existent_ MERCY for as long as that meant he would love her.

 

And he _did_ love her. He _couldn’t help_ but love her.

 

There wasn’t anything _not to love_.

 

He didn’t know if he _hated himself_ or _the entire situation_ more, because even his love wasn’t _real love at all_ was it? It was _a poor imitation_ of love.

 

Desperate. Harmful. Weak.

 

So _weak_. He couldn’t help but give in to her.

 

“fine,” he told her. “hold my coat for me, will ya? i’ll come back for it. and please get dressed. let’s go out somewhere after this, ok? have you been to the temmie village?” He asked to be polite. Of _course_ she hadn’t gone to the Temmie Village, save for that time she hadn’t been _herself_. And the kid shook her head, and her eyes were suddenly wide with a hope and excitement that were _so foreign to him_.

 

He couldn’t help the rush of affection for her that invaded his chest.

  
  
He gave her a weak smile. He brushed his fingers through her hair. “they have a nice little café. i’m sure you’d like it. let me take you there? it can be like a date.”

 

From the kitchen, they heard Papyrus’ voice. “SANS? HUMAN? THE RAVIOLI IS GOING TO GET COLD, HURRY UP OR I’LL EAT IT FOR YOU!”

  
  
A smile smile from Frisk. Her cheeks were a lovely pink. Sans rolled the lights of his eye sockets at his brother’s yelling and winked at Frisk. “welp, better go tell pap that you’re still asleep,” he told her. And then, because he wasn’t sure he’d made it clear—because he was paranoid, and he _knew_ that she _needed_ to hear it—he added “i _do_ love you, kid.

 

“i really do.”

 

And often, perhaps _way too often_ , even he was _stupid enough_ to believe it.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to go ahead and post this. Sorry about the delay. These next few weeks are going to be incredibly busy for me, but I also made the mistake of updating "Like a Feather" before I updated this and I... That one was seriously draining for me. It was hard to switch back to this and Sans' POV.

The silence between Sans and Papyrus was extremely noticeable and yet Sans couldn't find it in himself to care.

 

He was worried about Frisk.

 

He shouldn’t have asked Frisk out on that date.

  
  
He shouldn’t have asked her. That was sick and wrong of him. He was a  _grown man_  and she was  _almost his child_ and  _fourteen freaking years old_  and not only a human but _the Anomaly_ , to boot. He should have  _never_  asked her out. And  _what was he doing_? What had he been  _thinking_? He should just end _whatever this was_ he had with the kid and go back to dating—dating _adults_ —

 

The idea of casually dating or even _just fucking_ anyone that wasn't Frisk was now repulsive to him, somehow.

  
And it had seemed like a good idea, at the time. It had seemed like a great idea, to offer to take the kid to the Temmie Village, suggest it could be a date. Reassure the kid that  _he loved_   _her_ —because he  _did_  love her—and maybe she’d be less sad if he showed her he loved her. Maybe she’d feel less pathetic. Less lonely and hopeless.

  
  
Maybe she would even be less traumatized by all he’d _done_ to her. Maybe she'd even feel less used, because—she _had_ been used—

 

And he had loved it. He had loved every minute of it. He wanted to do it a g a i n.

  
  
But maybe just this once it could be just like a date? Just a nice little date with  _no sex_ ,  _no sex whatsoever_ , he wasn’t going to  _touch_  her again—

  
  
Well, he might give in and  _just_   _kiss_  her again—

  
  
And it had seemed harmless, at the time, to suggest a date. Just absolutely  _harmless_. But now here Sans was, absolutely nervous and  _obsessed_  and still horny as he forced himself to eat the completely inedible ravioli cooked by Papyrus. 

  
  
Papyrus, who was currently eating at the table with him and kept interrogating Sans about Frisk.

  
  
“I’M WORRIED SHE MIGHT BE SICK, SANS. THE HUMAN DOESN’T USUALLY SLEEP MUCH DURING THE DAY.”

  
  
“she’s fine, pap,” Sans told him again. And he had said the words so many times during their meal that they were beginning to feel like a mantra.

  
  
He had lied and told Papyrus that he had used his blue magic as a flashlight in the dark. He had lied and told Papyrus that the kid had been completely asleep the entire time. He had lied and told Papyrus that—that he  _had_  gone to work with his shirt put on backwards, he hadn’t noticed it until recently, thanks for offering to point it out if it happened in the future Papyrus— 

  
  
He had lied and told Papyrus that he was fine. That the kid was fine. That they were  _both_  

  
  
just _fine_ , Papyrus!

  
  
And he really didn’t think that Papyrus suspected that Sans had been fucking the kid. He really didn’t think so at all. But sometimes Pap would ask an innocent question—

  
  
Such as, “WHY WAS SHE UNDER SO MANY COVERS?”

  
  
And all that Sans heard was:  _I know she was naked, you disgusting child fucker,_   _how could you **do** this to Frisk?_

__  
  
And it was more than Sans could take.

  
  
To think that not only Frisk but also Papyrus could one day hate him for being the literal and figurative monster he was.

  
  
Frisk and Pap were the two beings he loved the most in  _the entire world_. He couldn’t survive the RESETs without them. He needed them both, and to think he was harming them by being what he was—

  
  
He was  _poison_  to Frisk. He was  _one big lie_  to Papyrus.

  
  
He was  _weak_ ,  _disgusting_ ,  _pathetic_ ,  _worthless_.

  
  
He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt _this_ depressed—

 

Papyrus started to worry. "SANS? ARE YOU ALRIGHT?"

 

And Sans hadn't been aware that he had stopped smiling.

 

"yeah, pap."—he forced out a yawn—"just tired." And that wasn't a complete lie. He _was_ tired.

 

Tired of the RESETs. Tired of being infected by so much LV. Tired of _being_ like he was and of hurting Frisk and of being _so hopelessly_ attached to _the goddamn Anomaly_.  


And sometimes he could resent her _so_.

 

She was—she was _far_ too good for him. And did she do that _on purpose_ , to stay out of his reach?

 

Of course not. Of _course_ she wasn't being _so good_ , _so innocent_ , on purpose. Sans had just met the kid too early.

 

_Far,_ _far too early_ and he was _still_ hopelessly in love and hopelessly _addicted_ and just hopelessly obsessed, and infatuated, and _attracted_ to—the _kid_.

 

He was _hopeless_ when it came to the kid.

 

And it wasn't just because she was the Anomaly although that had certainly been what first caught his attention. No, it wasn’t _just_ that. Frisk was kind. She was good. She was _very good_ and very pretty. And she was—she was _just_ a kid—but for a kid she was pretty clever, and funny, and pleasant, and just _so_ —

 

_She was,_ in their best moments, _so_ warm, _so comforting_. She _was_ , when he wasn’t drowning in _guilt_ , like coming home after a _very_ long day.

 

She made him feel like—like he was accepted—

 

Like he was _poison_ , but he could _still_ be a good person—

 

If he _just tried_.

 

He _so often_ didn't bother try.

 

"—YOU'RE BOTH SICK," Papyrus told him, and it was like a cold knife pierced his chest.

 

"w- _what_?" Sans stuttered, but when his eye sockets focused on Papyrus there was no judgment in his brother's face, just concern.

 

"I SAID MAYBE YOU AND THE HUMAN ARE BOTH SICK. SANS, YOU AREN'T USUALLY THIS QUIET."

 

_Relief_ and _guilt_ and _shame_.

 

"no, we both just had a late night. we stayed up late watching nectarine girl."

 

Papyrus gasped in _rage_ and horror. "YOU DID _WHAT_!?!?"

 

"oops," Sans said with a grin.

 

Pap was _furious_. "SANS!!! HOW MANY EPISODES DID YOU WATCH WITHOUT ME, SANS? I WILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU FOR DOING THIS—NO SPOILERS!!! NYEH-ARRRGHH!! I AM _SO ANGRY_ AT THE BOTH OF YOU!!!!!"

 

And Sans was about to apologize when a _marvelously soft voice_ beat him to it—

 

"Sorry, Papyrus," the kid said shyly as she entered the kitchen. Her eyes were still slightly red, but still she looked at Sans and _sweetly smiled at him_ —

 

A _very_ small, _incredible_ smile. It made something flutter in Sans' chest and his entire body feel weak.

 

And he was _hers_ to do whatever she wanted with him.

 

"I just couldn't resist watching a couple more episodes. I talked Sans into it," she told Papyrus. "But I really want to watch them again with you tonight, okay?"

 

Papyrus looked like he was trying hard to remain be mad at the kid, but in the end he gave up. It was impossible to stay mad at Frisk, Sans understood the feeling _perfectly_. And so in the end Papyrus said,  "...NYEH. I GUESS THERE'S NO HARM DONE, HUMAN."

 

And Frisk beamed _wide_ at that and gave Pap a hug before sitting down between Sans and his brother.

 

Sans immediately had an evil idea and said, "hey, kiddo. you're kind of late to the party, but you can have some of my pasta."

 

And Frisk narrowed her eyes at him. Sans grinned with a fake innocence. He may love her, but if it meant less pasta for Sans to force down his own throat, he was still fully willing to throw the kid under the bus. Figuratively.

 

And _she knew this_ , how selfishly sneaky he could be, and yet _she loved him_.

 

She was _his best friend_ , his _best_ memory.

 

"Thanks, Sans, but I'm okay. I'm not really hungry," she told him, and she could play his games too. “You can eat all your pasta, but that was very nice of you.”

 

Papyrus looked at the kid with concern. "YOU'RE NOT HUNGRY, HUMAN? BUT I MADE RAVIOLI. I THOUGHT YOU LIKED RAVIOLI."

 

"I do," Frisk told Pap with a smile, and Sans loved her, he _really_ loved her—"But I'm _really_ not hungry. I just ate some of your leftovers a while ago."

 

"SO YOU DO HAVE AN APETITE? YOU'RE NOT SICK?"

 

"Yeah, I'm okay," she told him. "I just needed a nap."

 

"i could do with one of those myself," Sans interjected.

 

Papyrus yelled at him. "SANS! YOU'RE ALWAYS NAPPING! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED! NOW FINISH YOUR PASTA OR THERE WON'T BE ANY DESSERT."

 

That caught Frisk and Sans' attention. They both said in unison, "...dessert?"

 

And then Papyrus looked extra proud. He stood up and said "YES!!! UNDYNE AND I HAVE BEEN EXPERIMENTING"— _uh oh_ —"WE'VE BOTH DECIDED, SINCE WE HAVE ALREADY MASTERED THE ART OF MAKING PASTA, WHY NOT INVENT A FEW PASTA DISHES OF OUR OWN?" Sans noticed how Frisk's face paled with horror.

 

And then Papyrus moved to the fridge, and he opened it. "SO WE HAVE INVENTED”—he took out some sort of wriggly, almost translucent green substance stuffed with spaghetti and odd chunks of _something_ —"SPAGHETTI JELL-O!!!" Papyrus beamed proudly. "THIS ONE IS SNAIL-FLAVORED, ESPECIALLY FOR FRISK! I KNOW HOW SHE LOVES SNAIL CAKE!"

 

The kid turned _positively green_ at that and looked like she was about to throw up. Sans didn’t want Pap’s feelings to get hurt, so he did it instinctively; he _grabbed her hand_ and _stopped time_ —

 

And then suddenly Frisk got up and ran to the bathroom. She hadn't even noticed that time had stopped. And _she was_ —

 

She was _completely_ _alone_ with him now, at _his mercy_ —

 

He was _still pretty horny_. He kind of wanted to fuck—

 

And there was the sudden and sick and yet _exciting_ realization that if he decided to fuck her right now there would be _nothing she could do about it_ , she would probably not even see it coming, and there was really nobody around right now that could make him _stop_ —

  
It was just him and Frisk, now.

 

She excited the bathroom a few moments later and muttered "Sorry I ran, I thought that I had to—"

 

And Sans had somehow gotten up.

 

Frisk finally seemed to notice the _eerie silence_ around them. She froze once she saw Pap's own frozen expression.

 

And he was _suddenly in front of her_ and she had gone _so pale_ with eyes wide with an unspoken _fear_ and _she knew_ —

 

She knew _perfectly well_ what he could now make her do. Did she know that he was _tempted_?

 

He _forced himself_ —to _very gently_ —put his hands around her shoulders.

 

He could do this at _any time_. He could fuck her at _any time he wanted_. She _wasn't safe_ , she wasn't ever _really safe_ _from him_ , he was too powerful and _too obsessed_ and now they _both knew—_

 

He—he kissed her forehead—he _very lightly_ kissed her forehead—and he hoped that the small kiss—was somehow _reassuring_ to her—

 

But instead her eyes were wide with fear and he could hear her heart beating furiously in her chest, even though she remained _completely still_.

  
_Completely_ docile.

 

And he was _feeling_ — _so_ — _tempted_ —

 

And then he asked her, in a voice that was _forcibly_ and _deceptively_ composed, "are you alright?"

 

She—the kid nodded. She was _so good_ , she _nodded_ , and that was a lie, she was _lying for him_.

 

He moved to kiss her.

 

He stopped himself as soon as his mouth touched her pink lips.

 

And he had _so much power over her_ it was _intoxicating_. He could have her _literally any time he wanted_. And that was—that was _too much_ —

 

That was _too much temptation_ to resist. Frisk was right to force herself to give in to him. He didn't know what he'd _do_ —

 

If he had to _physically make her submit_ —

 

He had _full access_ to a kid who would _never truly die_ and by the looks of it _would never leave_ _him_ and he could be cruel, he could be _more than cruel_ , if he _so wanted_ —

 

And he had to remind himself that he was _trying to be good_ and that he was trying to do things right this time around with Frisk. He had to remind himself that _she was his endgame_ , she was what he _most wanted_ —

 

_She_ _was a person_ —with _feelings_ and _memories_ and—

 

And he heard himself telling her "we need to sit back down or papyrus will notice something is off."

 

And that was met with an unspoken _relief_. Frisk was awfully pale.

 

Her heart was still racing. It was beating _so loud_ amidst the silence.

 

And she was _afraid of him_ , she _really was_ , but he was _afraid of himself_ , too—

 

They sat down and he once again held her hand. She flinched just a _little bit_.

 

And then time kept moving forward and Papyrus kept showing off his new pasta dessert. Frisk didn't eat it.

 

Sans took one for the team and did.

 

 

 

Visiting the Temmie Village with Frisk turned out to not be the big deal Sans had been afraid it would be. It felt just like any other outing, albeit someplace new, and it wasn’t entirely unlike the time he’d taken Frisk to Hotland although this time Frisk was squealing at the cuteness of the village just as much as she was squealing due to her own excitement.

 

Sans once again made a mental note that he needed to take the kid outside of Snowdin more often.

 

They met Papyrus there, at Frisk's insistence. She had been so afraid of leaving Pap alone, kept worrying that something might happen to Pap if he stayed home alone "with Flowey". And so in the end, Papyrus had gone to the Temmie Village after Sans suggested that they all race there—

 

And Sans and Frisk would follow later. He would have them take a shortcut—he didn't take shortcuts with Pap—he had always avoided doing the more impressive magic around him—

 

Pap was pretty happy with his perceived position as the stronger, more responsible brother.

 

And so Sans and Frisk would follow _later_ and that had left Sans and Frisk with a few hours alone at the house. And _they_ —

 

_They had made out._

 

Sans had _started it_.

 

But then at his insistent kisses Frisk had gone along with it soon enough. She'd even gotten into it. _Really_ into it. She'd kissed him and she'd let his tongue explore her mouth and she'd _even moved her hands to stroke his bones_ and she hadn't seemed to mind it, when Sans firmly pressed his erection against her. She hadn't seemed to mind it, when Sans did it again and started dry humping her.

 

She hadn't seemed to mind it when Sans got into it. She hadn’t seemed to mind it when he ended up _aggressively pinning her to the couch_ and bit her neck.

 

She hadn’t seemed to mind it, when he came with a grunt pressed firmly against her. She’d still accepted all his kisses, before, during and after. She’d still let him lick the mark he’d left on her neck. She’d still let him touch her.

 

And this was their relationship.

 

Just a lot of things Sans did to Frisk and Frisk pretended not to mind.

 

But at the Temmie Village, things were different. At the Temmie Village, they were having a nice outing with Papyrus. And maybe it was the fact that they had Papyrus between them or maybe it was that Sans had taken a _load_ off— _hah_ —

 

Maybe it was that Frisk seemed _absolutely ecstatic_ to be there. Maybe it was the way she _so cutely laughed_ when the first Temmie said "hoi!! i'M temmie!!!", how she laughed even harder by the time she met Bob—

  
They’d, uh—Sans had made _sure_ they’d all steered clear of the depressed dancing mushroom—

 

And Sans was able to think much more clearly and focus on the kid and on _all the different ways that he loved her_.

 

And when he was _sure_ no one was looking, he would kiss her on the cheek and she would blush.

 

Kissing her like that felt so sweet. It felt like more than just a date.

 

And every so often, Papyrus would say "HU—I MEAN, FELLOW MONSTER, ARE YOU HAVING FUN?"

 

And Frisk would absolutely beam as a Temmie fussed over her and she'd say "Yes!"

 

They went together into the café once Frisk had met everybody. All the Temmies had fussed over Frisk's cuteness, and Sans had definitely agreed.

 

Frisk was _very_ cute.

 

Frisk was _absolutely beautiful_.

 

They each made a different order of temmie flakes: regular, on sale and expensiv. Frisk laughed _so hard_ when their orders came, and she saw how each of the temmie flakes were exactly the same.

 

Sans _still_ went out of his way to make sure that Frisk got the expensiv temmie flakes.

 

And they—the three of them—they had a lot of fun. They—the three of them—they _really_ enjoyed each other’s company. And maybe Sans was _sick_ , but that didn’t _mean_ he didn’t love Frisk—

 

He _really, truly did_ _love Frisk_ —

 

And she was just _so happy_ amongst the temmies and she was just _so cute_ as she explored, as she learned about the very importants temm history, as she let Bob squeal over her and pet her and let Temmie absolutely fawn over her and tell her how cute she was—

 

She got sneezed on more than once, by the more allergic of the temmies, but Frisk didn’t seem to mind.

 

And then suddenly Sans found himself alone with Papyrus and they were just watching Frisk had fun. Sans couldn’t help the rush of affection he felt for the kid and he told Papyrus, “she really is great, isn’t she?”

  
  
“ALMOST AS GREAT AS ME,” Pap said in agreement. Sans suppressed a snort. And of course, Pap was great too…

  
  
Then Pap’s voice changed. He sounded worried. He said, “SANS, ARE YOU SURE IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO BRING HER HERE? YOU KNOW HOW UNDYNE IS LOOKING FOR HUMANS.”

 

And Sans _didn’t tell him_ how, if they had been found out, he had been _fully ready_ to _RESET the timeline_.

 

And instead he said, “nah, pap. you know how undyne can’t stand temmies. she’d never talk to one.”

  
  
And that was that.

  
  
They let Frisk have her fun.

  
  
And Sans would _never_ , _ever_ _tell her_ how _absolutely ready_ he had been to kill her if she’d been found out.

 

He hoped she would have forgiven him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even going to come back to edit this. Microsoft Word kept changing "temmies" to "tummies" so I apologize for any typos. I'll deal with this Sans later ughfghjdk *bangs head on desk*


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was originally meant to be a transition chapter during which time was meant to go on and we got to see a bit of how Sans and Frisk acted in their relationship. 
> 
> It is now a transition chapter full of holy shit. Just goddamn no. Goddammit, Sans. So sorry about the pseudo-snuff, like wtf.
> 
> Skip to the last few paragraphs if you want to not read the awfulness.

He had her pinned on his bed underneath him and _he was kissing her_

 

 _Harsh_ and _rough_ and _desperate_

 

And this was the easiest way he could let her know how he felt about her. It was the easiest and the most pleasurable way—his _favorite way_ to show her what she did to him. Making out with the kid was a _pretty damn enjoyable_ way to show his love for her and at the same time vent out his _frustration_ —

 

His _sick want_ —

 

His _selfishness_ —

 

His _desperation_ and _guilt_ —

 

And they had done this a few times, now. She was getting _so much better_ at it. His tongue was once again exploring her mouth and _she was reciprocating_ , this time, _finally_. It felt _amazing_ —He would _never get tired of this_ —

 

He almost lost it right then and there when she started sucking on his tongue _like_ _he had taught her to_.

 

And then suddenly he was getting rougher. He felt _needy_ and full of lust. He held her down with a hand against her throat. He—he grinded a few times against her—

 

It felt _so fucking good_ to know that _he could kill her_ right now if he wanted to—

 

And they had done this a few times, too. _Just_ _a very few times_ but she knew _exactly_ how to behave now— _completely limp_ and _defeated_ and _passive_. The one time she'd tried to fight him, he'd almost _lost_ it, had almost _killed_ her.

 

Had _almost fucked her_.

 

And then she hadn’t done that again. She’d _given up_. Just let him do what he wanted to her.

 

And he _knew_ she didn't like it when he played with her like this. It was _far too similar_ to the _many, many times_ he had killed her. But it made him feel _so superior_ to the Anomaly to know that at any given moment he could _very_ _easily_ end her life, cause another RESET to happen by _his_ hand, _not_ hers. To know that she—her life was in his hands—and he had killed her _so many times_ before and _he loved her_ , but _fuck_ —

 

Toying with her life like _this_ was _the next best thing to fucking her_.

 

She was _his_ and he could do _whatever he wanted_ with her.

 

And so he grinded his cock against her and _squeezed._ He wrapped his fingers tightly around her neck.

 

The kid’s hands shot up to grab his wrist. It was a very meek gesture. She was pleading for air, begging for mercy. And that was the closest she got anymore to fighting him, but she still remained _so limp_ as he _pressed his hand against her throat_ —

 

She was _absolutely submissive_ —he was _totally in control_ —

 

Or, well, _almost_.

 

Because he still _badly_ wanted to fuck her and _couldn’t_. He _so, so badly_ wanted to fuck her and couldn’t bring himself to _dare_.

 

He kissed her again and she kissed him back.

 

He hissed against her mouth. " _fuck_ —i _love you_."

 

And he rewarded her kiss by loosening his grip _just enough_ to allow a breath of fresh air. He thrust himself _one more time_ against her clothed entrance.

 

And it occurred to him that this was love to Frisk. Her first relationship that wasn’t even truly a _real_ relationship.

 

He _drowned his guilt_ with another _hard squeeze_ on her throat and a love bite on her shoulder and another harsh thrust against the kid.

 

It felt _good_. It felt _really_ good.

 

And he _really just wanted to fuck her_ —this _couldn't be worse than fucking her_ —

 

Another breath of fresh air for the kid. Another hard thrust against her. And then another… and another…

 

She let out a _soft little moan_ that was both pain and hopefully pleasure and he _nearly lost it_.

 

He _very nearly_ lost it.

 

And " _fuck_ , kid—"

 

He shoved his tongue down the Anomaly's throat again.

 

She felt _so good_ , so _completely incredible_.

 

He toyed with her like this and brought her _to the edge of death and back again_ until _he came_ grinding against her and collapsed on top of her with a _wave_ of _guilt_.

 

He _always_ felt a wave of guilt. He hid his face against her neck. " _sorry_ ," he groaned, and he _really was_ sorry, but then he'd get horny and do it _again_.

 

And this was all he could do to _not stick his dick inside her_.

 

And maybe Frisk had a point. Maybe Sans should just let the kid give in and let him fuck her. But there was something _inherently scary_ about fucking the kid _now_ —

 

 _Now that there were no more RESETs, no more safety nets_ —

 

And Sans didn't want to quite literally _fuck_ things up with the kid, _hah_. He didn’t want to _so, so badly_ ruin things with her that it would immediately end whatever it is they had between them.

 

Whatever it is they had, because she was _far too young_ to be his girlfriend—she was _far, far too young_ and they'd never _really_ talked about it—

 

But she was _so much more than just a fling_ , wasn't she?

 

They were—it was too bizarre to think of them as lovers. He was _hers_ and she was _his_ , and that was that.

 

No need to complicate things with names or labels. They were as good as bound together. And they _did_ love each other—

 

The kid finally found the will to move again and she tentatively gave him what felt like a half-hearted kiss on the cheek and held him to her in a way that was _so soothing_ , so _comforting_ to him that he very nearly forgot his guilt. He pressed his face further against her neck. He could fall asleep this way but he—

 

"i'm _really sorry_ , kiddo," he told her. "are you alright?"

 

A pause, and then a shaky "I'm ok." And Sans _didn't ask her_ if she was telling the truth, he _didn't beg her_ to elaborate...

 

He was a _selfish coward_ and he'd probably pull all of this shit again tomorrow or in a few days, he _never lasted_ longer than a few days and Frisk _knew it_ , so why was he even apologizing.

 

And maybe she didn’t like it but she still _let_ _him_. She _let him_ and that meant—That meant—

 

That she was desperate enough for his affection that she’d even take it like that, probably.

 

And then she always looked _so completely miserable_ afterwards, for a while.

 

And he _so often wished_ that didn’t happen. He often wished that there was something he could do to make her happy, _truly happy_ , the way she so often made him happy when he wasn’t drowning in lust and in _guilt_. Sometimes, he even thought he’d succeeded. They had gone hiking this morning at her insistence, and Sans was usually _so lazy_ , he _hated_ to go on hikes, but _for her_ he _did_ and—

 

And he thought _for sure_ she had enjoyed herself, just hiking along the Snowdin forest with him. They’d shared some laughs, they’d had a picnic— She’d even cornered him against a tree and sweetly kissed him.

 

But then he started _too aggressively kissing her back_ and she froze. Things became awkward.

 

And there _wasn’t really anything_ he could _possibly do_ to fix _that_.

 

Theirs was a _mess of a relationship_ , of _two messed up people_ , and he—

 

He _really shouldn’t be doing this_ to Frisk.

 

He _really shouldn’t_ , and yet he _did_ , kept doing _the same shit_ _over_ and _over_ to Frisk.

 

He was about to bitterly point this out when she sweetly kissed him on the mouth.

 

Just a peck from her lips. It erased all of his concerns and his doubts.

 

It _amplified his guilt_.

 

He kissed her back _just as gently_ and it was _far easier_ to control himself after he’d come. Maybe _that_ was why Frisk always let him. Maybe she thought that was the price to pay for the gentler affection from him that came afterwards.  
  
And maybe when it came to him, she was right. But he _so often worried_ that someone else might come after him and take advantage of Frisk the _same way_ that _he_ was. He would have to—

 

He _wasn’t modelling a healthy relationship_ —

 

And what was _wrong_ with him that he would worry about _that_?

 

In the end, they just held each other and they cuddled. Frisk fell asleep against his chest and eventually, Sans fell asleep too. And this was the part that felt like they were just two normal people who deeply loved each other.

 

This was the part that he _really_ _wanted_ , when his mind wasn’t cloudy with _need_.

 

 

 

Sometimes, it just hit him _extra hard_ how entirely _wrong_ and _sick_ his and the kid’s entire situation was. He’d wallow in self-hate and in guilt.

 

And it was in those times, ironically, that he _most needed_ the kid. He would seek her out and hide his face against her neck and let the kid comfort him in that special way she knew how to do. Her words were so soothing. Her voice was so soft. And she _always_ made _him_ feel—

 

_So loved. So cared about. So understood._

 

And sometimes he just felt like crying against her and confessing all his sins. Sometimes he even _did_. He once told her about—

 

The _youngest soul_ —"she was _so small_ , kid. tinier than you were when you fell down. i killed her _so many times_. i even enjoyed it."

 

He told her about—the _bravest one_ —"he just kept trying to take a swing at me. i—i dragged his deaths out a little bit. i thought it was _so funny_ , _hah_. i _still_ do."

 

He—He _didn't tell her_ about the one who'd always begged for mercy—

 

(The _one_ he'd _toyed with the most._ )

 

But he _did_ tell her about his first. That one had been one _very long_ and uncomfortable conversation. He told her about his reasoning behind offering to gather the souls, about his initial temptation and eagerness and nervousness. He told her about how _very much_ he had regretted killing the human when the girl quickly died the first time and he _told Frisk_ , perhaps in _too much detail_ , exactly _how brutally he’d offed the girl_ by the time the last of her many timelines came around. How _funny_ he’d found it when the girl had fallen almost lifeless to the ground and still _refused_ to _die_ as if she hadn’t died a hundred times before. How much—

 

How much _killing Frisk_ had reminded him of killing that _other_ girl, sometimes. The sounds that humans made when close to death could be _so similar_ —

 

So—so _fucking hilarious_ —

 

And Frisk had gone _completely still_ and _silent_ and she was probably _horrified_ at that, but Sans had just _kept talking_. He _couldn’t stop himself_ from telling her about his sins, the things he’d done. And in the end—

 

In the end, when he started feeling bad from his confessions, Frisk had compassionately hugged him.

 

In the end, he had _once again kissed her_.

 

And she’d _let_ _him_ _kiss her_. Let him hold her down by the throat—

 

Let him— _get off_ —on top of her—

 

He was _such a fucking sadist_ and _Frisk knew_.

 

And Sans wasn’t entirely sure if he should care about the fact that she knew about so many of his sins or not. And maybe he shouldn’t even care that she had probably been just _too terrified_ to make him stop. And maybe her fear had been _a good thing_ , because in _that one occasion_ he didn’t think he could have stopped—

 

Maybe he wouldn’t have, and maybe he was the worst, maybe he was completely beyond redemption, but—

 

But _at least he had Frisk_ , who still loved him, somehow.

 

And those days were _the best_ and _worst_ because it was in those days that Frisk proved just how much she could intensely love him and Sans proved just how deplorably and inexcusably he could still fail her.

 

 

 

Time moved forward for a while without RESETs and _today_ had been slowly turning into one of _those_ days. Those days when he felt _sick_ _and guilty_ and sought comfort from Frisk. He’d spoken to Toriel earlier today. He _always_ had one of _those days_ on the days he spoke to Toriel. The goat monster was just _so confident_ that Sans could be a—

 

 _Ugh_ —a _great dad_ —

 

To the kid that _she didn’t know that Sans was almost fucking_ —

 

And so he came home early again from his _imaginary shift_ at the sentry station. No new human spotted yet. Sans found the kid lying on the couch with a rather bored expression and he let himself collapse on top of her. He once again buried his face against her neck.

 

Her scent alone was _so soothing_. She smelled like vanilla and a field of golden flowers.

 

Frisk turned off the tv. She knew what this one action from him meant. She began to gently stroke his bones in a way that was _so calming_ to him, he felt _so relaxed_ when he was with her like this—

 

He whispered a _feverish_ and _reverent_ “ _i love you so much_.”

 

And she told him, _very_ softly, "I love you too, Sans. Did you have a bad day?"

 

He was _very honest_ with her, more than he should probably be with the kid. "your mom thinks i should read a few books on parenting kids with depression."

 

She tensed up underneath him at that, and when she spoke, she sounded defensive. "I haven't told mom about—"

 

Sans cut her off. "you didn't _have_ to tell her anything, frisk. she’s your mother.” And he pressed a small kiss on the side of her neck. He didn’t even know why he did it. He was still so—

 

He had been left _so uncomfortable_ from his talk with Toriel.

 

And— _God_ —the way that _he and that lady_ _sometimes spoke_ — How could he so easily _brag_ about all of Frisk’s little achievements and still—

 

 _Still_ just _—fuck—_

Talking about Frisk with Toriel _always_ _messed with his head_. He shouldn’t feel so much _pride_ and _love_ and _paternal concern_ over _this kid he was almost fucking_.

 

He kissed her again and maybe he was just reminding himself that he loved her in different ways. “your mom noticed the way you talk to her, or rather _barely_ talk,” he told her. “she thinks you're depressed. she— _shit_ — _sorry_ about the language, kiddo, but she _knows_ you're depressed. heck, even _i_ know you’re depressed, kid, but i’m so _fucking useless_ when it comes to helping you—"

 

There was an uncomfortable silence and then Sans let out a bitter laugh. "you know what _the sick thing_ about all of this is? it’s that i'll still probably read the _damn books_ , like i’m your _goddamn parent_ , even though i _still want to_ _fuck you_ , do you know that? sorry. _sorry_. i don’t mean to curse—but kid, how _sick_ and _wrong_ is _that_? how _sick_ and _wrong_ am _i_ that i—

 

“i just want to _help you_ but i—

 

“i _just_ — _shit_. i don’t even know what to _do_ about you, kiddo.”

 

She remained _very_ quiet. _Mute_ Frisk. _Shit_. And Sans knew well to give her all the time she needed until she found the words to talk—

 

He _waited_.

 

He could be _very patient_ , waiting for Frisk to speak, because the wait was usually so worth it.

 

And then, finally, after what felt like an eternity, Frisk finally told him, in that voice that was _so soft_ and quiet, “I don’t, um, think I’m depressed.

 

And then “I’ve always felt sort of like this.”

  
And finally “I’ll be happier around mom. You shouldn’t worry about me.”

 

He pressed a kiss against her neck and told her “i can’t _not_ worry about you. you _do_ know that, right? i worry about you _constantly_ , frisk. you’re just _so_ —

 

“you matter a _lot_ to me. i know i’m often _selfish_ , and i don’t show you like i should. but kiddo, it’s just _you and me_. if you need me—

 

“just _tell me_. i’ll do anything.”

 

And she told him, “To tell you the truth, I’m mostly just really worried that Papyrus is still talking to Flowey. I don’t think there’s anything we can do about that, except for me to keep moving forward.”

 

Sans got off of the kid. His eye flickered with an angry blue. “i keep _telling_ you you need to let me kill that flower.”

 

And Frisk just shook her head _,_ because of _course_ she did, she was _so full of MERCY_. “You shouldn’t _kill_ anyone. And Flowey can still be good. He’s _just lonely_ , Sans—like us—”

 

“ _he wants to kill papyrus_. he’s _killed_ you. he—”

 

“Just let me deal with Flowey. Please? Sans, I _have_ to do this—this is _exactly_ why I didn’t want to tell you—”

 

He took both of his hands to his eye sockets and let out a deep groan of frustration. “you’re going to _kill_ me being _this good_ , kid. you know, some of us really _don’t_ deserve second and third chances— _myself fucking included_ , kiddo. how can you just be _so forgiving_ —”

 

“You know, Flowey warns me about you, too,” she told him. She was frowning slightly at him now, and he felt like he was being scolded. “How would _you_ feel if I listened to _him_? And besides, this is _my life_ —I can risk it for whomever I want—”

 

“but you _don’t_ risk it, though,” he told her, and he was getting pretty angry at her now. This was a sore subject between them that just somehow _wouldn’t die_. “you’re _not_ losing your life when you die, the world just RESETs each time. what you _are_ risking is _what little is left of my sanity_ , because kid, _i’m_ the one who has to remember everything with each RESET. and i’ve _told_ you—i’ve told you _how much_ it _fucking hurts_ , how anxious it makes me when i know another RESET might be coming. so can’t you just be selfish _just once_ for _me_ and let me _kill that weed_ so that you don’t _have_ to go _anywhere_ —”

 

“I’ve told you that I _can’t_. And even if I could— _Sans_ , you really _shouldn’t_ get any more LV. It’s hurting you more than the RESETs. And this would all be over if you just let me give Asgore my soul like I keep telling you I have to do—”

 

“there is _no way in hell_ i’m losing you,” he told her angrily.

 

She snapped. She yelled at him. “There is _a big world_ out there!” she yelled, and she was _so angry_ that her cheeks were red and she was almost crying. “There’s _the sun_ and _fresh air_ and a sky _so blue_ you’d love it! I _know_ you’d love it, you’d be _so happy_ up there. But _I hated it_. I’m _miserable_. All I’ve got is _you_ and Papyrus and _a voice inside my head_ and _a murderous flower_ and phone calls from a mom who doesn’t _ever_ think I’m worth a visit, how do you think _I_ feel?

 

“And Papyrus doesn’t even spend _half_ as much time with me as he does with Undyne and _you_ —you’re _such_ _a_ _bad monster_ ”—he flinched—“all you _ever_ want to do is _touch_ me. And _I love you_ , I _really_ love you, but all you _ever want to do_ is touch me and that feels—it feels _so bad—_ like you’d _only love me_ if I _let_ you—and I _do_ _let you_ because _I love you_ but I still—I still _really wish_ you _didn’t_ —and now _mom’s_ saying I’m _depressed_? I’ve been depressed since before I came here! And what I _really_ want is to just—

 

“Just _end it_ already—

 

“I am _so sick_ and tired of _the voice_ and of _worrying about Papyrus_ and of _being scared_ of _you_ because _you won’t even_ let _me_ decide when you’re going to hurt me _again!_ And I—I _can’t stand it_ —Mom keeps asking me what happened to Monsterkid—and she keeps trying to talk to me about how _wonderful_ being _in love_ is when _I know better_ —I—I  know _way better_ —I _hate_ that I love you and _you hate it too_ , right? So you take it out on _me_? Because I’m _weak_ and _you’re not_? You’re just a—a _terrible monster_ —you’re _worse_ than Flowey—”

 

And then she hit him in the chest and he was stunned. He hadn’t expected Frisk—to out of the blue _lash out_ at him like that.

 

She _very weakly_ hit him again and what was happening. They had been _completely okay_ just a few minutes ago.

 

And she ended up just _sobbing against his chest_ and he was scum.

 

He was _worse than scum_ and still he hugged her. He was _worse than scum_ and still he kissed the top of her head.

 

And maybe he was just making it worse—Hadn’t she _just_ said he always touched her?

 

And he just kept whispering, maybe more than slightly bewildered, “ _sorry, sorry, sorry…_ ”

 

She held on to him _so tightly_. He didn’t try to back away. And he couldn’t even completely understand just what it was that was now broken between them.

 

He just let her cry, but it felt wrong, somehow.

 

And _they had been just fine just a few minutes ago_.

 

And he suddenly just felt _so, so depressed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a meme or something going around in the Harry Potter fandom that says that any HP headcanon can be possible, because the books are in Harry's POV and Harry is just so clueless and unobservant, that anything that fans might dream could have plausibly happened in the series because Harry would NEVER notice and the books were from his point of view.
> 
> I think the same could apply here.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here it is. Gah!! Finally. Chapter 28.

Sans thanked his lucky stars that he at least had physics because he didn't know what he'd do if he couldn't even attempt to forget his own issues by solving random physics problems from his workbook. It had been a while since he’d solved so many problems with the help of linear algebra and multivariable vector calculus, and the fact that this particular set of problems had a bit of physical chemistry thrown in—

 

Well, that was a plus. It had been a while since he’d dabbled in chemistry.

 

He was on his seventh page of solving a particularly interesting problem concerning Hydrogen atoms when the knocking once again forced him to pause. Solving science problems always required Sans’ full attention, forcing his mind away from the Anomaly and the RESETs. And it was a welcome change, when his mind momentarily wandered away from the kid and the constant resetting of timelines…

 

It was especially welcome  _now_  after their fight. Sans was—he was still bewildered. Frisk had always been such a q _uiet kid._ For her to lash out at him like that—  


He'd fucked up. He'd _definitely_ , _quite_ _literally_ , _fucked_ up.

 

He tried to focus on the math aspect of the problem he’d been working on but his thoughts regarding Frisk and the near-incessant pounding of the door wouldn’t let him be.

 

Earlier, he’d stayed with the kid while she cried against him, alternating between pushing him away from her and pulling herself closer to him. And he probably shouldn’t have stayed with her like that. His presence had probably made things worse for Frisk. But he couldn’t exactly have _left_ her—

 

He loved her, he _really_ loved her, he loved her _too much_ to just leave her be even if _the sick way_ he loved her was _precisely_ the problem—

 

He had stroked her hair and whispered soothing words in a pathetic attempt to comfort her and had waited until she’d calmed down significantly and had stopped sobbing against his chest. Then he had kissed the top of her head, wiped her tears away and then left.

 

And the worst part perhaps was that when he vanished he felt her trying to follow him.

 

He’d been holed up in his workshop ever since. Frisk had never once left the house. And he’d assumed, sometime after midnight, that the kid had just fallen asleep on their couch. But then he’d felt her—

 

He’d felt her move out of the house and then towards him and between  _that_  and his thoughts of her and  _the persistent loud knocking_ it was starting to look like page seventeen of his workbook was as far as he would go during his little science break today.

 

The kid once again resumed her knocking. And how had she even _known_ that he was  _here_? His workshop was outside of the house. He hadn’t told her he was coming here. Could she now somehow sense where he was, like _he_ could sense _her_? 

 

Had whatever sick connection it was that _so firmly anchored him to her_ began to affect the kid, too? Or had she just grown to know him _so well_ that she could predict where he would go to at any given moment?

 

_Knock, knock, knock!_ The kid was persistent. "Sans, let me in!"

 

For the hundredth time today, he felt defeated. And he was also getting pretty irritated, despite his _guilt_ and his _longing_ and his _persistent fear_ of further fucking things up with the kid. Didn't Frisk know she had to _stay_ _away from him_? He wasn't strong enough by himself to resist her. And—

 

And another set of consecutive knocks. Louder. More persistent. " _Sans!!_ "

 

And it was pretty late into the night, and it was cold out... She’d catch a cold out there…

 

_Knock, knock, knock, **knock** ,  **KNOCK**!!!_

 

"Sans,  _please!_   _Please please please PLEASE_  just let me in—"

 

She’d catch a cold, and she was _lonely_ , and she had just broken down crying in his arms not twelve hours ago. What kind of soulless monster would turn his back on _her_? She was—he wasn’t strong enough, he shouldn’t be near the kid, but _she was_ —

 

She was _so much more_ than he could ever find the strength to turn his back on.

 

And _it wasn't_   _fair_ , what she was doing to him. It wasn’t fair, how she’d insisted on holding on to him even as he tried to tear himself away from her and save them both. She was _his everything_ , and so of course, he couldn’t resist her—  
  
She’d grow to eventually hate him for the things he’d done and continued to do to her because he _simply_ _couldn’t resist her_ —

 

And it wasn’t fair, that he couldn’t avoid the temptation by just avoiding her altogether. It wasn’t fair, that he couldn’t even _choose_ to stay away from her, because she’d follow him like this. It wasn’t fair, that he was always at _her_ Mercy—

 

He was _weak_ and she was _vulnerable_ and it was _cruel_ , how she so firmly attached herself to him. He wasn’t _ever_ going to be a better person when Frisk just continued to just willingly and unconditionally make herself available. And the fact that he _let_ him hurt her—

 

Sometimes he felt like Frisk would hold his hand against her chest and would patiently wait for him to summon the piercing bones that would kill her if only that meant he’d stay with her and love her. And the worst part was that he _would_.

 

And sometimes, she was right—he _hated_ that he loved her, even if the hate was drowned out by the desperate love he felt for her.

 

He gave up the moment the kid started quietly sobbing against the door. It was no real surprise that he gave up. He’d _known_ the moment the kid started knocking that he would eventually give up and let her go to him. And so he angrily resigned himself and he took off his reading glasses—

 

He was  _so angry_  at himself, at the world and at Frisk—

 

_So fucking angry_ and _defeated_  and  _done_ —

 

And so he went to the door and  _slammed it open_  and just—

 

And just there was Frisk, looking up anxiously at him with a face full of lonely desperation and worry.

 

He didn't know how he found it in himself to _not_ kiss her.

 

And then she  _lunged at him_  and hugged him, and he saw with a bitter clarity how their fucked up cycle of desperate neediness and lonely misery was _starting again_ —

 

She apologized, and _why_ she was apologizing to _him_ of all people he _didn’t ever fucking know_. She had been right—he was _a bad monster_ —but still she clung to him and told him, "I am  _so, so sorry_ , Sans. I didn't mean to snap at you like that.  _Please_  don't be mad,  _please_  don't be mad at me..."

 

And the kid had _no idea_ how completely fucked up all of this was. She probably just thought this was what love was, just a never-ending cycle of pain inflicted upon her followed by her desperate forgiveness. But Sans _knew better_ , he'd never been in love before he met Frisk but he was old enough that he _knew better_ , and he was  _hopeless_ , he felt _defeated_ ; this wasn’t love. This wasn't going to end until they both  _truly hated each other_  and he—

 

He wrapped his arms around the kid.

 

("I won't get angry again. I swear. I love you. I don't mind anything, Sans, so  _please_...")

 

He pressed a kiss on the top of her head and this was  _wrong_. She wasn't well and _he was taking advantage of it_.

 

("Please don't leave me. I'll be good. I can't stand it when we're apart, so please... I love you. I  _really really_  love you, Sans, so _please_...")

 

And  _shit_.

 

He was  _so fucking weak_.

 

He hated that he gave in to her and hated that he wasn't sure what was worse: to distance himself from the kid or keep her close to him. He didn’t know _what was worse_ because if he left her, she became desperate at a time when she was already depressed and also borderline suicidal...

 

"kiddo, it's fine. i'm not mad at you," he told her. And he swore on the king’s crown that he was going to read _each and every one of those damn books_ Toriel had recommended to him, his own twisted feelings for the kid be damned. Because this _wasn’t right_ , what she was willing to do to herself… It wasn’t right, the way she persistently clung to him…

 

(...and then  _on the other hand_...)

 

And then _this_ time, it was  _she_  who stood on her toes and kissed him. Her hands were slightly shaking as she held on to the front of his coat. And  _he knew_  that she was doing this just to please him, but he was  _too weak_  to resist kissing back.

 

It felt _so good_ to have her lips against his mouth—

 

(...and on the other hand, when he was near the kid he was _absolutely incapable_ of resisting her.)

 

And maybe she had grown to  _even like it,_  when he kissed her, despite the way it made her feel when he touched her like this. Heavens knew how much  _he_  liked it, his magic buzzing against her lips, his hands moving down the kid's waist and hips, his magic exploring the soft texture of her warm skin… He _could never get enough of her_ despite the bitter aftertaste of sickness and of _guilt_ that were left behind whenever he took advantage of the kid like this. And he wasn't a—he wasn't a  _terrible_  kisser, he’d been told that his magic felt good. She probably _did_ like his advances, even if _just_  a _little bit_ —

 

He was kissing her back and he was  _too weak_  not to conjure up his tongue and push it into her. And  _god_ , this time she automatically opened her mouth for it, this time she lost no time in moving her own pink tongue against his and tasting him...

 

And in the back of his mind _he knew what she was doing_ , even if he couldn’t help but _fully give in_ to the temporary bliss.

 

He knew _exactly_ what she was doing because the kid knew that if she got him off, if she let him come by using her however he wanted, afterwards he'd shower her with a reverent sort of affection out of remorse and of guilt. And isn't  _that_  what she had learned from him? That she had to earn his less aggressive affection like _this_?

 

He made a half-hearted attempt to pull away but then she sucked on his tongue and he _lost it_. He _slammed_ the kid against the wall and shoved his tongue further into her mouth and he grinded _the fully formed cock_ under his shorts against her and he—

 

She felt  _so unbelievably good_ , even if she temporarily froze and stopped kissing him. But then _he yanked her head back by her hair_ and forced himself further into her mouth and down her throat and she—she got the message—she started kissing him back again after just _one_ little whimper—and _fuck_ —

 

_Fuck_ , he could really do _anything_ to her—the sheer amount of _power_ he had over her felt _so fucking good_ —

 

And he could think of something bigger of his that  _definitely needed sucking_. Could he get her to do _that_ for _him_?

 

He probably _could_.

 

He pinned her wrists against the wall and managed somehow to tear himself away from her.

 

And he was—he was terribly excited. His breathing had grown shallow and erratic and  _so had hers_ , so had hers with that pink flush of her cheeks, her slightly swollen red lips, the brightness of her eyes as she looked at him—

 

And the kid was still trembling slightly and her breaths were coming in a bit too fast for her to be feeling truly comfortable with him.

 

And so he tried his best to listen to _that_ quiet message. He ignored how  _inviting_  she still looked, how desperate and willing, despite her fear and whatever else it was that she felt. He ignored the stiffness that had formed under his shorts, how desperately he just wanted to—

 

To _throw her against the floor with his magic_ —

 

To _rip her clothes off, force himself inside of her_ —

 

And this needed to  _stop_  and he didn’t know if he could be the one to do it. This  _needed_   _to stop_  because she was desperate and needy and  _he was desperate and needy, too_. He couldn’t be trusted around this kid. He shouldn’t have _ever_ in a million timelines gone as far as _touch_ this kid—

 

And he badly needed a distraction. Something that would keep his hands off of the kid and the kid off of him. Because he was  _so close_  to ruining things, ruining things _for good_ , and he was…

 

He was grasping at straws here but it occurred to him that she’d never been in here before…

 

"i love you," he told her, and sometimes those words sounded like a prayer. He hoped she found them as reassuring as he did, because he  _did_  love her, he could never  _not_  love her, even if his love was— it was _not the best_. "i haven't, ah... you've never been in my workshop before, have you? let me show you around."

 

And just like that, he let go of her. He... he took one of the kid's hands in his own. He saw how the kid’s eyes widened, a mixture of shock and confusion on her face along with what he _bitterly noticed_ was a wave of relief. And this attempt at a tour was entirely ridiculous.

 

What was there here to even  _show_ her in here? Most of the stuff he had once kept in his workshop was gone.

 

But the kid seemed to be getting the message because she didn't try throwing herself at him again and—

 

And that was  _good_.

 

He felt a _little_ bit disappointed…

 

But it was good that she wasn’t insisting. Maybe Sans could go another day without sticking his dick in her after all. And maybe… maybe _someday_ …

 

Maybe someday he would be able to have the kid with her _full consent_ , if he tried hard enough and didn’t fuck this up again. Maybe someday they could be together and happy, just the two of them plus Papyrus. Maybe they could…

 

They couldn’t _exactly_ start a family but maybe they could… could still start _something_ together…

 

The vivid image of ten year-old Frisk, fresh out of the Ruins the first time they’d met. Chubby cheeks, timid smile, more than a full foot shorter than he was. He wondered what it would have been like if _he and Frisk_ could have a kid who looked _just like her mother_. Frisk with his child. Uncle Papyrus. Frisk growing old with him.

 

_Frisk_ , it would _always be_ _Frisk_ for him.

 

But Frisk—

 

Frisk was a _child._

And how _desperate_ , how _lonely_ , how _sick was he_ that he would even dare to dream and consider… that he could _so much as_ _think_ …

 

Even if it weren’t physically impossible for humans and monsters to have children, it would be impossible for _them_. He’d caused her too much pain; he’d taken too much pleasure from the deaths and the torture he’d inflicted on him. He’d fucked her more than once, _when she was still_ _a kid_ , _against her will_. And even if she forgave him, because she was _so full of MERCY_ , how lasting could their relationship _be_? Theirs was a temporary thing; just a fling that was _so much more_ than a fling. Theirs was a needy love full of mutual loneliness and desperation until she was strong enough to leave him or _worse_ , until she hated him, or _even worse_ , until she finally found a way to escape him by dying permanently.

 

He _couldn’t_ , _wouldn’t_ , let the kid go to Asgore.

 

He shook off the vivid image of Frisk blossoming into adulthood. Frisk in a wedding dress walking down an aisle towards him. Frisk laughing at his stupid jokes on date night because they had nothing to hide and she was old enough for him and she had forgiven him. And that sort of happiness wasn’t for them. He could only wish that it was a happiness that Frisk might have with someone else. And maybe at _that_ point in her life he’d just be… just a _nasty memory_ …

 

But if _Frisk_ could have some of that bliss, even if it was meant to be with someone else, even if _he_ was meant to stay alone, who was _he_ to feel—

 

So _lonely_ , so _miserable_ , so _empty_ and _bitter_.

 

_So_ …

 

So _selfishly_ _hopeless_ , because the happier moments of Frisk’s life wouldn’t _ever_ be while she was with him?

 

Sans nervously shuffled around the messy contents of his drawers. He pointedly ignored the way the kid suddenly began staring at his broken machine. And he was… He _tried_ to sound cheerful. He really, _really_ wasn’t…

 

"i keep some notebooks with my formulas here,” he told her. “some old blueprints too... over there is the empty space where my computer used to be and hey!”—he let out a half-hearted chuckle—“so  _here’s_  where that drawing went. just between the two of us, kid, this is dr gaster."

 

He let Frisk have a  _very brief_  glimpse of a crude drawing of Gaster ( _don't ask questions kid, please don't ask questions_ ) before he shoved a handful of papers into her hands and forced himself to keep talking.

 

"my main area of expertise is obviously quantum mechanics, but lately i've been getting really into statistical mechanics too. that's,  _uh_ , it's another branch of physics. it has a lot to do with probability theory. i thought it might be useful for researching the resets, but so far i haven't gotten anywhere with that yet. there really is no way to properly predict when you die without my 'help', kiddo,  _hah_ …” He let out an ill-timed laugh, but then saw how she frowned at him and he immediately stopped himself. He—he _wasn’t ever a good monster_ , not even to her. And he felt _grief_. “uh... sorry. i didn’t mean to be so _boneheaded_ about that.”

  
And killing Frisk, even though he loved her, had been often enjoyable and had even sometimes been funny. And _this_ was why a healthier Frisk _wouldn’t ever_ stay with him—

 

He was _far too cruel_ and _far too destructive_ and _far too detached_ to even care unless he was with Frisk.

 

The kid seemed to let go of his inappropriate and terrible joke. She instead tried to look through his blueprints, but she looked entirely confused. And it was cute.

 

It was cute the way she looked at his work.

 

"I don't understand any of this," she finally told him. And it was completely adorable that she even thought that she should. It had taken Sans  _years_  and  _years_  of learning under Gaster and—

 

And Frisk was  _just a child_. 

 

Just a lonely little child who'd fallen down here  _way too young_  and  _way too early_. He again wondered how different things might have been if she'd been older when they met. Would she have  _still_  liked him, had she been older and known better, him being  _what he was_?

 

Would they have had a better chance, if she had been older, at becoming one of those versions of _them_ that would sometimes pop in his mind?

 

Happy Frisk. Frisk, married to Sans. Older Frisk, sharing a house, visiting Papyrus, adopting a pet or even a child together. Would she have wanted to be a mother? How would she have looked like, perhaps pregnant by her late twenties, if he could have found a way to—

 

Would she have _even liked him_ , if she’d met him in her twenties, thirties or beyond?

 

Sans was so _absolutely sure_ that he would have _still_ loved  _her_.

 

He forced himself to shove his hands  _deep in his pockets_. His little tour of his workplace was temporarily forgotten.

 

"you know, if you ever feel like you want to understand my blueprints, frisk—learning the science behind it is a little time consuming, but not impossible," he offered. "maybe you could let me teach you, someday..."

  

And there was something about that spoken  _someday_  that spoke of his desperate wish that they might still one day share a future together.

 

The kid didn't quite catch that. She didn’t quite hear his lonely desperation. And there was just so much, _too much_ , that Sans was too cowardly to say. Frisk instead wrinkled her nose at him, and the sudden lightness of her words caught him by complete surprise. "Sans, I love you, but if being with you means we're going to do homework, I think I’d much rather date Papyrus."

 

Those words out of her were _so unexpected_ that he laughed  _so hard_ and he hugged her.

 

" _hah_ , i  _love_ you,” he told her, and he felt so much affection for her swelling up inside his chest as he hugged her. He pressed a kiss against her neck, his hands moving down to her hips, “frisk, you’re just  _so_ —”  
  
_So_ wonderful, _so_ perfect, _so_ stunning.

 

And if she could only just _see it_ —

 

How amazing she was, how _absolutely incredible_ , how funny and witty and charming and _good_ —

 

How _absolutely worthy_ she could be of _just about anyone_ _who could make her happy_ —

 

If she could only see herself the way he saw her, he feared there would be nothing he could do to stay with her. She’d turn her back on him, disgusted. But wasn’t _that_ so much better than a sad, lonely Frisk?

 

Wouldn’t it be best for Frisk to be happy, even if that meant that his wildest dreams with her would disappear?

 

He couldn’t have her either way. Maybe now they were together, the way a vulnerable child and an opportunistic asshole like him could be together. And there was _no way_ that this could last.

 

She’d hate him when she grew to fully understand all he’d done to her or she’d hate him when he finally gave in and went too far. She’d hate him, she’d _more_ than hate him, and then she and he would go back to their respective lonely miseries, and maybe Frisk would stay alone, just like Sans would.

 

And he couldn’t help but feel the weight and the _sheer gravity_ of all he’d done to Frisk crush his soul like a lead weight. And the countless sins he’d committed against Frisk and against others kept crawling sickeningly on his back like large spiders.

 

He hid his face against the kid’s neck with _shame._ He really hoped that the kid couldn’t see his sins, the blood he still sometimes felt coating his bones, the sick guilt that still haunted him when he wasn’t detached enough. He didn’t know what he would _do_ if she could ever see—

 

Just _precisely_ what an _absolutely terrible monster_ he was, marred with blood and with tears, unrepentance and sin.

 

And he didn’t know how he had ever gotten this lucky to have met her. The kid started stroking his back. She felt like— He wondered what exactly it was about her that felt like coming home after a _very_ _long day_. And she still smelled like vanilla and like a field of golden flowers, and she still meant _so much to him_ , she was love and compassion and a warm embrace.

 

He whispered a _very shy_ and _quietly desperate_ “forgive me?”

 

He didn’t know how to interpret the way she _very sweetly_ kissed the top of his head but didn’t say anything other than “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, this chapter was a pain. I was really concerned about Frisk acting like she was here, I feel like she went back to Sans too soon, but I couldn't get her to act any other way because her self-esteem is just SO low. But I'm still okay with this chapter. Pretty okay with how this turned out actually. I mean I wanted Sans to be told off by Frisk some more, but this is fine, all things considered. I don't know. Sdfghjkdj. Gah.
> 
> Also, I now have a deviant art account! :D If anyone wants to see a poorly scanned picture of a drawing of Creep!Sans and Frisk, crudely drawn with a pencil and then colored in with crayons because I'm lame, it's here: http://kenyaketchup.deviantart.com/art/Jesus-Christ-it-s-Sans-and-Frisk-597691841?ga_submit_new=10%253A1458440250
> 
> HURR HURR WAT GR8 ART!!!11one1!1


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So shit hit the fan this week at work and then again today in my personal life HAHAHA. So sorry about this chapter. It's kind of long but uneventful unlike I originally planned and we didn't get to see [the other character] yet. And then while I was typing it stuff happened and I don't think I was able to edit it well and the ending is kind of forced, SO SORRY. And maybe it's a crappy chapter, I can't tell. Just guh.
> 
> NEVER EVER LIVE YOUR LIFE, KIDS. It's too full of surprises Jesus Christ.

He had woken up from a particularly bad dream feeling _very anxious_ and it really was remarkable, truly, how seamlessly the sudden burst of unwanted anxiety could mix in with his depression.

 

Just  _fan-friggin-tastically_ , to be honest.

  
He found the kid sleeping next to him and buried his face against Frisk as he clung to her. He didn’t care what time it was. And he felt her stir against him, but he was completely indifferent—

 

He felt like he had just killed her off not two seconds ago. Was this Frisk or Chara? Was his brother safe? He had killed off both Frisk and the _not_ -Frisk in  _so many timelines_  and the Anomaly just kept coming back to life and she was going to keep RESETting the world forever and  _his time machine_ —

 

His time machine wasn’t ever going to work correctly. He’d worked on those blueprints _so many times_ and had been unsuccessful. And there was just  _no way_ that he could physically transport himself into the timespace and fix whatever glitch it was that was  _so_  connected to  _the goddamn kid_  and all the RESETs and—

 

And maybe he was holding on to the kid a bit too roughly. His face was pressed firmly against her chest. His hands—the hard bones that were fingers were probably digging into the skin of her hips.

 

And he let go. He was  _so sorry_.

 

And perhaps he should first apologize but his mind was a mixture of dreams, nightmares and paranoia and so the first thing he asked her was “ _Frisk?_ ”

 

He heard her let out the deep breath she had probably been holding and this wouldn’t have been the first time, regrettably, that he’d killed her off when he was only half-awake and still thinking she might be Chara. It had happened twice before. And he was only getting worse even if his—

 

His  _behavior_  while completely awake had been a bit better—

 

He hadn’t touched her in weeks, save for their decidedly unsexual cuddle sessions at night and a kiss here and there and—and hand-holding when no one was looking—

 

And sometimes he’d dare to brush her hair off her face or hug her a bit too tightly or for a bit too long but she had definitely not seemed to mind it when he did—

 

So his behavior was better but  _he_  himself was only feeling worse and _worse_. The possibility of keeping Frisk only looked more impossible with time. And it as awful that—that the more unlikely he thought they could be, the more he wanted it—

 

The worse he  _felt_. The more he held on to Frisk. And she had now more than once stated that she  _had_  to keep going soon or argued that he  _had_  to let her spend more time with Flowey—

 

And that—that  _fucking weed_  had killed his kid once again, too. And Frisk had shrugged it off, just like she’d shrugged off his reflex executions—

 

Just like she was shrugging off the way his fingers had dug too harshly into her skin, how he had  _very briefly_ glanced at her neck and contemplated breaking it and shit— _shit_ —

 

He was a danger to his kid more often than not wasn’t he?

 

He felt absolutely _miserable_ and unworthy and undeserving even as the kid reassured him that “Yeah, Sans. It’s me.

 

“You probably had another nightmare.

 

“Are  _you_   _alright_?”

 

He hugged her so tight. Moved his head from her chest to her neck. “nevermind _me_ , kiddo. are  _you_  okay? i think i—”

 

“I’m fine,” she cut him off. “ _Sorry_. I wish there was something I could do… I’m  _really sorry_  you keep having nightmares about me. I know it’s awful for you to relive it—”

 

He  _almost_  pulled himself away from the kid so he could shake some sense into her because “that wasn’t  _you_ who did those things, kid. _christ_. this  _isn’t your fault_.”

 

And he so often almost believed it. (If she weren’t around, would the RESETs still happen?)

 

And then she muttered another “Sorry” and—

 

He  _very gently_  bit at her neck before conjuring up his tongue and tasting her—he couldn’t resist it—

 

And then he tore himself away from her and “you’re  _blameless_. stop beating yourself up over it. and _please_ tell me it’s time to get up, because now that i have you here i just—” 

 

He didn’t exactly dare to finish that sentence. They had been doing so well. And Frisk was—she was  _marginally happier_ , once he’d backed off physically. She was marginally happier when she wasn’t fretting about Flowey or Papyrus or insisting that she had to give up her soul to Asgore. She would still mention dying every once in a while, but that was thankfully becoming less frequent, and Sans was _very thankful_ for that because Sans had—

 

Sans had been at a loss of what to do. None of the books that Tori had recommended had been helpful. He’d read them all, but he didn’t think there were any counselors or psychologists in Underground, and the probability of finding human medicine in the dump was laughable. And every time he tried to listen to her, it just stressed him out more. And every time he tried to comfort her, he’d end up—maybe touching her the wrong way—and she’d freeze, and he—

 

He sometimes got turned on by the fear in her eyes even if he would never admit it. It was too reminiscent of the few times he had fucked her. 

 

And sometimes he wished that he’d fucked her more often, had fucked her each timeline, because now that he _couldn’t_ he—

 

Frisk checked her phone. She looked as wide awake as he was. And in the back of his mind, he started hoping for a make out session, maybe some petting, maybe some sex…

 

“It’s almost seven,” she told him. “You can sleep in, but I have to go.”

 

And Sans  _groaned_.

 

_Fucking_   _Flowey_.

 

“are you seriously getting up _this early_ just to go talk to your little weed, kid?”

 

The kid’s blush was visible even against the faint light of her cellphone. “We’re sort of friends now. He hasn’t been threatening to kill Papyrus lately. And… And I think if I don’t talk to him every day, he misses me.” 

 

He raised a brow bone at her. “should i be  _jealous_?”

 

She shook her head a bit too anxiously but even Sans wasn’t insecure enough to actually be jealous of _a_   _fucking piece of grass_. “ _Please_  don’t be. I  _have_  to see Flowey. He… He mostly just throws insults and threats at me, but he’s pretty much harmless…”

 

“frisk, he  _killed_  you two timelines ago.”

 

“That was my fault!” she told him. “I—I should have seen it coming. It was an obvious trap—”

 

He moved his hand towards the kid and let it rest against her waist. She was so soft. So _absolutely defenseless_. “i want that weed  _dead_ , kid.”

 

She sweetly kissed him on the mouth. It was such an obvious attempt to placate him, and yet Sans felt something in his chest flutter and his bones grow weak. “Flowey is harmless. Just trust me, Sans. By the time this is over—”

 

And _here she went again_ —

 

“this isn’t  _ever_  going to be over,” he growled.

 

“— _By the time this is over_ , you won’t even remember there  _was_  a Flowey. You’ll be too busy up there! And—”

 

“ _frisk_ …”

 

“There’s going to be so much for you to see! And, um, anime  _isn’t real_ , by the way—”

 

“ _kid_ …”

 

“—You should probably mention that to Papyrus—”

 

He had _enough_ and he got on top of her and he pinned her down by her wrists against his mattress and then he kissed her.

 

He’d lasted four weeks, five days,  _three timelines_  before screwing things up with the kid this time and he—

 

_Just—god-fucking-dammit—_

Why even _try_?

 

“you’re  _not_  going anywhere. your soul is staying inside you. you’re not leaving, you’re not killing yourself over this, and _that’s final_ —”

 

She tried to protest, frustration clear on her voice. “I can’t help but do it! It  _has_  to happen, Sans. You can’t stop—”

 

“ _yes i can_ ,” he growled, hands digging into her wrists, and he was getting pissed, and he wanted to help her snap out of whatever self-destructive idea it was she so determinedly clung to but he— “ _yes_ , i can stop you, because  _you_  belong to _me_ , kiddo.”

 

She flushed a deep red and looked absolutely _furious_ and _humiliated_ and he knew at once that this hadn’t been the right way to go with her.

 

“ _I_  belong to  _me_ ,” she stubbornly told him. And her voice was small and so quiet but she spoke with _such conviction_ that he _almost backed off_. “I’m not  _yours_. Just because  _you made me_ —”

 

_—fuck him_. She didn’t  _say_  it, but it was  _clear_  that she was talking about  _all the times_  he’d made her fuck him.

 

She kept going. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to do  _whatever you want_. Even if I love you, even if I let you do— _other things_ —this isn’t  _about_  you or me. I  _have_  to do this. Everyone—

 

“It isn’t fair that everyone is  _trapped here_  when I could help break the barrier. And I don’t want to live anymore anyway. Dying hurts, but living is  _worse_  and—”  

 

And he started freaking out. 

 

Not  _this_  conversation again. Not _this_ one. He didn’t know how to—

 

A flash of blue magic filled the room and the kid went _deathly quiet_ and pale as a ghost. Had he done that? He hadn’t meant to—

 

But if the fear in her eyes was any indication, she didn’t  _really_  want to die and  _that at least was good_. That was good, wasn’t it? He hadn’t done a bad—what would Papyrus have called it again? He wouldn’t necessarily call it a _Violence_ , he hadn’t _hurt_ the kid, he didn’t even know what it was he’d been doing with his magic but

 

She was quieter, now. Noticeably calmer. And it was like all the fight had suddenly gone out of her and she was terrified of him.

 

“did i hurt you?” he found himself asking. It took a  _very long time_  for her to answer.

 

“Um—No,” she finally told him. “You just… I thought you  _looked like_  you were going to. You just scared me. I’m fine.”

 

That sort of answer didn’t make him feel any better. He went back to being a nervous, anxious mess. And  _Frisk_ …

 

This wasn’t at all the way he had envisioned them. And he knew that the things he _so often dreamed for them_ were stupid and… and _impossible_ , but still…

 

It still  _freaking hurt_ —to have her be afraid of him like this over a random burst of his magic. He felt like she thought that _even death_ was preferable to… to him.

 

And sometimes he  _did_  agree with her and thought that  _death would be better_  than  _being him_. But if  _he left_ — _who would take care of Frisk?_  

 

She was just a kid and mostly alone in the Underground and she was right, Tori never visited her. Toriel would never be able to properly take care of her from inside the Ruins and Papyrus was _always_ at Undyne’s lately and it was Sans who took care of Pap and paid rent, anyway. And maybe he was being—no, he was  _definitely_ being—a  _very shitty_ adult figure and guardian to Frisk but  _at least_ —

 

At least  _he was there_ , if she needed him, and he couldn’t be there if he just gave up, and she meant _the whole world_ to him and he was—

 

He was just  _so tired_ , sometimes. So  _bone tired_ of the RESETs and of himself and of constantly failing Frisk.

 

She kissed him. Just an innocent peck on the cheek, short and sweet and full of an unspoken concern. He suddenly noticed that he was still holding her down and he let go of her.

 

(“sorry…”)

 

And then he tried to get off of her, but she grabbed him by his shirt. "I can... I can visit Flowey later, Sans. Do you want me to stay with you?" she asked him, but that wasn't the real question.

 

_Did he need her to stay with him?_

 

And when was the answer ever _anything_ but an absolute and desperate _yes_?

 

"sure," he told her, and he was trying his best to sound calm, was trying his best for his acceptance of her offer to _not sound_ as the frantic admission of his need and desperation that it was. "sure," he repeated, sounding decidedly stupid. "uh, did you have any other plans for today after the flower?"

 

Frisk looked at him with a confusion evident on her face. "I'm going fishing with Papyrus at noon. I thought he invited you?"

 

Sans shrugged. He hadn't seen much of Papyrus lately, he had been training extra often with Undyne and he...

 

Sans sometimes wondered if maybe Pap was getting a crush. That would be unfortunate; Undyne liked Alphys, everyone but Alphys knew _that_. Though Pap wouldn't be the first skeleton to fall in love with someone who was _completely impossible_ for them...

 

He focused his attention on Frisk. The kid was carefully studying him. She looked worried about him, which was _hilarious_ —because _he_ was worried about _her_.

 

Sometimes it seemed that they were both almost constantly worrying about each other and not enough about themselves.

 

He pressed a kiss on the top of her forehead. She was _so cute_ , he wanted to keep her with him. Maybe they could spend the day together again. They had been almost inseparable since he once again this timeline gathered art supplies for Frisk and made her an art corner inside his workshop. He was relieved to find out that Frisk still liked to paint; she had been _so happy_ when he’d given her the art supplies and had kissed him _so sweetly_ in thanks that she'd made his knees go weak.

 

She was _so cute, so pretty_...

 

A sudden thought sprang to mind and he stifled a chuckle. He moved his hand from the kid’s waist to the small of her back and held her close to him as he relocated so that her head was against his chest. And he very innocently asked her, "hey, kid. are you a vegetable?"

 

She moved a hand to grab at the front of his shirt. And she didn't always like his lame jokes early in the morning, but still she suppressed her usual groan and said "No, Sans. I'm a human being."

 

And then there was silence.

 

"...aren't you going to ask me why i asked you that?"

 

" _No_. It's an obvious trap."

 

"maybe you're just nervous that i'll find out your secret."

 

Her head against his chest and he could swear she gave him a kiss through his shirt. " _Fine_. What secret?"

 

He grinned. "that you are a _cute_ -cumber, kiddo."

 

And she laughed _so adorably_ at that before she groaned and then she told him, voice thick with a shy embarrassment, "You're _such a dork!_ "

 

Sans' grin widened with a hint of mischief. He moved his hand to her side and _he tickled_. (She gasped—" _Don't!_ ")

 

"am i a _dork_ able? or is that just you?" he asked her, wide awake now and with the full intention of torturing the kid with a surprise tickle attack. She used to always laugh with those as a kid, it was so nice that she was still ticklish— She was laughing next to him—

 

Pretty soon, she was gasping for air as she kept laughing _under him_.

 

" _Stop!!_ _Hahaha_ — _You_ —"

 

"i can't really hear you from all that laughter, frisk," he told her, and he felt his own shit eating grin widen. "gee, you must be feeling pretty happy right now."

 

"You're—hahaha—TICKLING ME you—HAHA STOP!!"

 

"stop _what_? this?"—he tickled her sides further before he moved his hand under her ribcage, another sensitive spot—"you want my hand over _here_ instead?"

 

"Hahahahaha NO!!!!"

 

"wow, frisk. i've never seen you this happy," he told her. And then a flash of a malicious grin and he didn't really think it through, but with the kid writhing beneath him he roughly growled at her that "you must _really enjoy being under me_."

 

And then the kid froze and she looked at him and suddenly he wasn't tickling her anymore.

 

"…sorry."

 

"That isn't _funny_."

 

"sorry, kid."

 

"Those were _the worst timelines_."

 

"i'm _really_ sorry."

 

"I never _once_ wanted it, _you jackass_."

 

A painful knot formed in his chest.

 

It suddenly looked even more impossible that they could ever have a nice future together.

 

"i... i know you didn't," he muttered, ashamed. "i wasn't thinking when i said that. i'm sorry."

 

There was an awful and painful silence and then "look, do you want me go just leave?"

 

The kid sighed. She moved her hands to his waist and held him against her. "No. Just… Just never mind. That was rude of me.

 

"Stay here. Be a lazy bones."

 

He let out a humorless laugh. "you wanna go back to sleep, huh?"

 

"It's kind of still early."

 

And he didn’t really feel like joking, but still he said "really? i hit on you with my best morning pun and you won't even take me to breakfast?"

 

A snort from her. It sounded entirely forced. "Is that what you want from me? Food? I thought we had something special."

 

And they were _both in hell_.

 

"we're two dorks in love, huh?"

 

They couldn’t _ever_ be _truly happy together_.

 

"We're one dork in love plus a normal person," she said with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

 

He teased back. It was better than facing the mess that they were. " _geez_ , sweetheart. you're not a dork. don't be so hard on yourself."

 

A roll of her eyes and she stuck out her pink tongue and—and he couldn't help but stare at it—he _knew_ how good tasting that sliver of pink felt—

 

She didn't notice him staring. And instead, she started teasing him. "Oh, I'm a _huge_ dork: ‘Science, science, pun, science, lame joke, science’."

 

Sans laughed a bit more genuinely this time. He couldn't help it; that had caught him completely off-guard. "is that supposed to be _me_?"

 

"Can't see the resemblance? Well, if you let me go get my backpack, I can grab a bottle of ketchup and my Sans impersonation will be complete..."

 

"you're _heartless_ ," he told her, grinning. "and you forgot to add an 'i love frisk' in between all the 'science'."

 

Her cheeks went pink. "’Science, science, I love Frisk, bad pun, science’?"

 

"not quite, you're still doing it wrong," he told her. And then he grinned at her and ran a hand through her hair and "here, let me show you: ‘i love frisk’"—he gently kissed her forehead and her blush intensified—

 

"i love frisk"—he slowly moved to kiss her cheek and she went so still that she couldn’t be breathing—

 

"i love frisk (and then probably a _hilarious_ pun)..."—he kissed the side of her neck and moved to her lips, now slightly parted—

 

"i _love_..."

 

He felt the way her breath caught in her throat. And he could have easily finished with a groan-inducing 'i love science'...

 

He didn't.

 

" _i love you_ , frisky," he whispered honestly, and then he brushed a soft flutter of his magic across her lips in what was just a hint of a kiss.

 

And he found... He found that he liked doing that. It made the magic in his bones flutter and his entire body feel weak.

 

He wanted to _do it again_ but then Frisk beat him to it. She pulled him to her by the front of his shirt and pressed her lips against his mouth in a sweet little kiss. And it felt good.

 

It felt _very_ good. Even if at first it felt entirely innocent.

 

They quickly drowned each other in a flutter of soft kisses and he _very gently_ kissed her lips, her chin, her neck...

 

When she arched her back to him he got his magic involved and he rubbed two trails of magic across her waist down to her hips and—

 

"is... is this okay?” _i don't want to_ _make you uncomfortable_.

 

Her cheeks were red. Her breaths were erratic. And she eagerly said "Y-Yeah. Keep going."

 

And he _almost lost it_ because this was _slowly leading to_...

 

_Did she know?_ Should he back off?

 

His mind went hazy and his magic went into overdrive when she took his hands in hers and moved them again from her hips up to her waist and—

 

And she was _definitely_ acting okay with this.

 

Another kiss and this time he softly bit her lower lip. She seemed to like that. He did it again.

 

She was probably unaware of how her hips shifted towards him in _a very inviting way_ as her fingers moved across his back. She moved her hands under his shirt and _up his ribs_ and—

 

_Sweet Angel of MERCY_ that felt good.

 

They were reaching dangerous territory.

 

He let her kiss him and enjoyed the feeling of her soft hands exploring his bones and the back of his mind was foggy but frantic. He couldn't understand this. Why was she doing this? Had he done something to imply that she _should_?

 

He'd just told her he loved her and he—he hadn't thought that he was doing anything wrong by saying that—he felt _so bad_ —

 

He hadn't meant to imply she should—

 

"you don't have to do this," he told her even as he hated telling her, because it felt _so good_ to have her touching him the way she was. "i just... i'll always love you. you don't have to..."

 

She held him tighter. "You’re such a dork...

 

"I just want to show you how much I love you."

 

And _shit_.

 

Could he _really take this then_?

 

No, he _shouldn't_ —she was _just a kid_ —

 

"i already—i already _know_ you love me," he muttered anxiously. "wait for me a... a few years? you don't really know what you're doing right now, kid..."

 

She frowned at him. "I'm not a virgin. We've had sex before. We both remember. I know—"

 

"just because i fucked you a few times it doesn't mean you're grown up and mature," he blurted out. And—and shit—

 

He hadn't meant to sound that crass. This was beginning to look like the start of another fight.

 

There was an angry sort of silence and then "Like _you_ cared before."

 

"i know. i didn’t. i’m _really sorry_ , that was very wrong of me," he said. "you were—i _really_ didn't think you would ever remember. and i'm sorry, i'm _really sorry_ i did that to you, kid. i'm trying not to—i want—when you grow up, i still _really_ want—"

 

And it felt useless and ridiculous, really, to tell the kid about his impossible dreams. Dreams of Frisk in a wedding dress, walking towards him; Frisk with his children; Frisk growing old with him.

 

What a _shameful_ and _selfish_ and _irrevocably stupid_ dream.

 

She'd never want him that way when she was old enough to know better.

 

"If you just let me, in this timeline, fix the things that didn't happen..." she said. "Sans, it doesn't really matter what you did before the world Reset. I remember, but _I love you_. If you'd just asked..."

 

He snorted, feeling a mixture of both contempt and disbelief. "if i'd just asked you _very nicely_ when you were twelve to let me fuck you, you would have let me?"

 

She blushed and went quiet again. And the answer was an obvious yes.

 

Of _course_ it was yes. She was a _self-sacrificing, desperate, lonely_ …

 

_Little kid_.

 

"that doesn't make it any better," he told her. "that i'm taking advantage of... some _vulnerable kid_. and when you're older, i'm sure you'll realize this. and that's the moment i'm dreading, because kid, as soon as you realize how completely fucked up this all is—the fact that i love you, that i _keep touching you_ , even when you think it's sweet and innocent—as soon as you realize how much advantage of you i'm taking, you're going to leave. and i'm just _hoping_ , if we somehow manage to never have sex again... i'm just _hoping_ that one day you'll—maybe not forgive me, i don’t think i would ever forgive me, but _at least_ —

 

“if you _at least_ didn’t hate me, that’d be—"

 

"I don't hate you,” she stubbornly told him. And she sounded so sure of that fact, as if it were more than obvious, that the irrational and ridiculous part of his mind dared to hope—

 

_Frisk holding hands with him. Frisk dating him._

 

_Frisk being his friend._ And how ridiculous.

 

"you will. _trust me_ , you _will_. and that makes me feel so awful, frisk, because i... _i adore you_. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. and i know we’re impossible in the long run, i’ve screwed up too much, but i still wish—”

 

His phone began to ring.

 

And it wasn’t even nine in the morning and it was Saturday, what the fuck…?

 

Sans jumped on the excuse and moved off the kid. And a phone call this early was annoying but at least it had saved him from further embarrassing himself. He grabbed his cellphone but it stopped ringing almost as soon as he picked it up.

 

He became just a little irritated. He checked his missed calls and groaned. _Alphys_. She always did this. Why did she insist on trying to call him if she always ended up hanging up before he got the chance to answer, she could just text him—

 

Almost as if on cue, his phone beeped what felt like a million times.

 

Alphys – Oh no!!! Sorry!! Did I wake you up? I forgot it was the weekend. Sorry!!!!

 

Alphys – I need to consult something with you. RE: Determination. Papyrus mentioned yesterday that you were free today, so…  


Alphys – Oops! I don’t mean to sound like I just need to talk to a physicist. I mean, I’ve also missed talking to you! We haven’t seen each other in a while… Maybe we could also catch up? I mean, if you want to…

 

Alphys – No pressure!!! We can meet today or some other time. Or maybe I could email you my work so far… If you don’t want to meet. That’s fine if you don’t!

 

Alphys – Sorry to text this early! Ok I’ll shut up now!!

  
Alphys – Sorry!!! Good morning when you see this!! Hope I didn’t wake you up!!!!

  
Sans just stared at his phone.

 

Frisk looked over his shoulder and casually told him, “Wow, did you get those all at once?”

 

He—He hadn’t expecting Frisk to be looking over his shoulder. He was suddenly so _irrationally grateful_ that these texts were from Alphys and not from some old fling. Not—Not that it mattered. Not that he kept in touch. But shit—

 

“yeah… alphys is a fast texter.”

 

The kid’s face lit up. “Alphys? The lady who recommended Nectarine Girl? I like her. What did she want?”

  
“she wants me to check her work i guess. a long time ago, i studied determination—a sort of energy that you humans have—with gaster,” he explained. “i’m guessing she wants to compare notes. she’s the royal scientist now; did i tell you that?”

  
The kid’s eyes went very wide and she looked impressed. “Whoa. She must be very smart.” Sans briefly wondered how impressed she’d be if _he_ had taken the position of Royal Scientist. Probably not very impressed; she’d still think he was a nerd.

 

What was that, she’d accused him of being like? ‘Science, science, lame pun, science?’

 

‘Science, science, i… _i love frisk_ , science…’

 

He couldn’t help but stare at her and feel more than awed.

 

Then she _smiled at him_ and—

 

He was _head over heels in love with her_ and—

 

“do you mind if i go visit her while you and pap attempt to fish? i might be there a while.”

  
  
And why was he asking her?

  
Frisk seemed to be asking herself the same question. “Um—Sure. Are you coming back for dinner?”

 

“the popato chisps are hidden in the third drawer of my workshop if i don’t come back to save you before then,” he told her, grinning. “but i should be back tonight at the latest. tv date?”

 

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Is this supposed to be a huge favor to you that I’m okay with you going over there instead of fishing with me and Papyrus? Because if so, I totally demand that we rewatch Nectarine Girl.”

 

“i’ll do whatever you want,” he told her and kissed her cheek. “but i’m going to complain the entire time because that anime is unbelievably terrible.”

  
“ _You’re_ terrible,” she said, and then she jokingly pushed him and she—

 

“I really won’t ever hate you, you science nerd,” she told him. “I love you a _whole, whole lot_.”

 

_He imagined Frisk telling him the same thing ten years from now._

 

_Holding hands. Maybe still living together._

_  
  
_ And he felt _so stupid_. To imagine that was completely ridiculous.

 

He was very honest with her.

  
  
“i really hope so, kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, SO SORRY if this is a crappy chapter. ;_; I really don't have the mind right to tell. Might go back to edit it, change a few or a bunch of things, but I wanted to post something in case I can't post again for a while and people start to wonder if I'm dead.
> 
> (I'M NOT DEAD. OR DYING.) 
> 
> And sorry for the sort of abrupt end. I was thinking I would have more time for this. @_@ 
> 
> On the plus side, Alphys next chapter! YAY YAY someone new FINALLY!!!!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are cool again. Phew! Thank you to all who worried. :)
> 
> A few things...
> 
> \- First of all, this is not an April Fool's chapter. ;) 
> 
> \- I feel like this fic is about to be over. Or, at least, it's more than halfway done and will be over within the next month or so. I'm thinking of a sequel? Mainly because a big chunk of the first chapter of a sequel came to mind last night and I loved it so much I've kind of started writing it.
> 
> \- Also, I AM SO SORRY I haven't replied to all your nice comments! I really appreciate them, and I read them all, but things have been very hectic. Gah!! Again, SO SORRY, I promise I'll answer you all eventually! I love everyone's comments. <3 They fill me with Determination.
> 
> That being said, I hope this chapter's okay! @_@

His magic did something weird in his chest when he teleported to the entrance of what was now Alphys' lab. Several conflicting emotions crashed in on him at once. He almost dropped his stack of lab notebooks.  
  
It was not at all a nice feeling, coming back here after all these years and timelines avoiding the lab.

 

He had worked in this lab before, with Gaster and others, back when the Underground was full of hope of one day breaking free from the Barrier. Sans had been—significantly happier and full of hope, too, long ago—back before the RESETs, back before the LV—  
  
Back before _the Anomaly_ , before _Frisk_ , before _blood_ —

 

He... He only vaguely remembered that more innocent part of his life now.

 

And yet being this close to the lab once again felt like an almost triggered panic attack and a barely manageable claustrophobia. Being _this close_ to the lab felt like a threat of vanishing to wherever it was that Gaster had gone to, probably scattered across time and space in itty bitty pieces if the computer simulations he’d regretfully run afterwards were true. And _all that they had wanted_ was to see if the glitch they’d noticed in the timespace was connected somehow to the Barrier—

 

All that they had wanted was to free everyone from the Underground without sacrificing a single human soul, back when the entire Underground had MERCY—

 

And all of that had long ago been a cause that Sans had strongly believed in. He sometimes strongly felt that he had once been a good person, a _very_ long time ago. But there was more than one reason why he had declined Asgore's request to be the next Royal Scientist—

 

The first and most important reason was that he could probably never be able to work in Gaster's lab again, without Gaster, after what had happened to him.  
  
And also there was the fact that he seriously doubted he could ever be half as good a Royal Scientist as Gaster had once been.

 

But also he wasn't such a good monster anymore and… and he didn’t care much for helping Monsterkind, not _anymore_.  
  
And there was no reason why it should matter. They were all stuck down here anyway, until he killed another human off—  
  
He had his own _very selfish reasons_ for collecting the last soul, but so what. So what if he did, it was not like it mattered, as long as he kept Frisk, as long as _Frisk didn’t find out_ —

 

He was going to keep her alive and her soul protected _no matter what that did to him_.

 

Sans took a deep breath. He shook away the anxious feeling of asphyxiating nostalgia and claustrophobic sickness and rang the doorbell. And then he waited, a pile of dog-eared lab notebooks held firmly in his hand, for what felt like a very long time. He had long ago done quite a bit of research on Determination so the notebooks felt heavy, but that wasn’t the main reason why Sans wished Alphys would hurry up.

 

She was probably somewhere downstairs, the lab was actually huge. And that was just his luck that she would be downstairs and might take a while to greet him.

 

Sans was growing impatient. _Why had he even agreed to come here?_

 

He could be home watching Frisk get ready for her outing with Papyrus right now. With any luck, she might have even been in a hurry and gotten dressed in front of him again. She _rarely_ did that anymore. And maybe it was because he always felt _so very tempted_ by it, he always stared—

 

—a bit… _predatorily_ —

 

And _ugh_. Maybe Alphys would never answer the door and he’d be alone with his thoughts forever.

 

He shifted uncomfortably where he stood. He didn’t particularly like being here.  
  
Sans was a skeleton. Heat didn't bother him. But the fact that the lab was also conveniently located at the very start of Hotland was...

 

It wasn’t doing Sans any favors. Being this close to Hotland reminded him of the time, months ago, probably now almost a year ago, _hundreds_ _of timelines ago_ now, when he’d taken the kid along while he worked his shift at the hot dog stand. They’d had a really nice time, then, just the two of them. And he’d loved spending that time with her and he loved _even more_ how her face had lit up with wonder as she felt the heat, saw the lava, listened to his explanation of the Core, she had loved coming here with him—

 

_She had never once asked him to bring her back here again_.

 

And had she subconsciously remembered even back then, what had happened after their little Hotland date, so many timelines ago? Sans had often wondered. He hadn’t—He hadn’t been _at all_ good to her, after he’d brought her here. And he felt bad, but he’d—  
  
It really truly _disgusted him_ and shamed him that he could still get _so turned on_ remembering what he had done to Frisk after they came back from Hotland. And it shouldn’t. It r _eally, really shouldn’t_ turn him on. That was a terrible thing for him to have done. He had really betrayed Frisk, he’d never blame her for the way she still occasionally flinched or froze when he got too close to her. He’d done some _truly terrible things to her_ and he was ashamed but the kid had felt—

 

She had felt _so fucking incredible_ while he had been inside her and—  
  
And _fuck_ —it was almost like she _belonged_ under him, and if he could do it all over again he’d probably still—  
  
It took him so much effort to be _even halfway decent_ to Frisk. The kid was right: he was a _very bad monster_.

 

And—

 

(And _fuck_ , Alphys, _hurry up and get here_ …)

 

And—

 

And _how could Frisk love him_ , after all he'd done to her? How could she even _stand_ to be around him, was she really _that_ much of a martyr, did she really hate herself _that much_? She had practically offered herself to him that morning. And he'd _refused_ —he was still trying to be good to Frisk—but he had _still_ been _so tempted_ and they had _still_ ended up making out after he'd finished texting Alphys and _they had still_ —

 

And they had still— _he_ had still—ended up things with his hand down her pants and his tongue and mouth on her breasts that he _definitely shouldn't have been doing_ with a kid like her. And _he_ had ended up—guiding Frisk’s little hand to—

 

_She had let him_. She had learned what to do pretty quickly after he taught her. And maybe what they’d ended up doing had been _marginally better_ than the kid’s initial offer—

 

But no matter how much she had seemed to be okay with it, _he still shouldn’t have_ —

 

He felt sick with a _familiar guilt_ and an unwanted and _even more familiar jolt of shame and misery_.

 

And how could she have let him do that to her, how could she have let him get off with her like _that_? Did she maybe think that if she _didn't_ , he'd _do it anyway_? Maybe even do _worse_?

 

He felt an unbearably strong and punishing _guilt_. That had certainly been how... How he’d _often been with her_. And he felt gross. Filthy. He _should have asked her_ , or offered an easy way for her to get out of doing it, or rather, _even better_ , he _shouldn’t have ever started that with her_ from the very start—

 

And maybe the biggest MERCY that he could have possibly given the kid would have been to have never loved her.

 

It was too late for that now. Even if the world once again RESET, if they'd started from scratch, it was too late for them and it was probably the both of them that knew it.

 

A sickening part of him imagined Frisk with chubby cheeks and a childish figure once again emerging from the Ruins and the particularly vivid image _horrified_ him.

 

He wished he never once again had to face her like _that_ , knowing _what he had done_ , what he’d _probably end up once again doing_ , to her. The idea of starting another timeline from scratch made him feel _frantic_ and sick. He hoped to _never, ever_ see that kid emerge from the Ruins again because _that would be torture_ —

 

To know that he would in just a few years lust after her, and _she would know, too_ —  
  
Wouldn’t she?  
  
What would _that_ feel like to her?

 

Meeting her again like that would be disturbing and cruel. Dangerous. _Sick_. Thank _MERCY_ for the SAVEs. Thank _MERCY_ that she’d ended up hiding for as long as she had in the Ruins the _very last time_ she came out because he—

 

He didn't _ever_ want to see a ten year-old Frisk again. Not in a million timelines. Not _ever_ , just _no_.

 

He’d rather die than face that child again. He’d rather die than relive a timeline where he’d be force to relive _again_ the way he noticed her body slowly get curvy, how attractive she suddenly became once he’d realized it, how _agonizingly appealing_ and _so sickeningly tempting_ and—  
  
And she’d been only twelve. She’d been so innocent. And she’d had _such an adorable_ puppy crush on him and he’d— He’d rather _die_ than do that to her again. He’d rather die, _he’d rather die_ …

 

He rang the doorbell again _with much more insistence_ and this time Alphys responded his rings with a stream of texts. 

 

Alphys – Oh no!!! I thought you heard me telling you to come in. Sorry!!!!

 

Alphys - The door is open! Please come in! 

 

Alphys - I'll be there in a few. Things suddenly got busy down here. Sorry!!!1

 

And ‘please come in’?

 

To _Gaster’s old lab_ , by _himself_?  
  
That proved to be _an entirely different set of cruel challenges_ and—

 

He was feeling more than slightly panicky, now.

 

And what was he _doing here_. He kept _asking himself that_.

 

He'd rather wait out here and think of Frisk even if his thoughts were guilt-ridden and sick. At least, for all their struggles together, the Anomaly had never disappeared. And she may have died often and gruesomely and violently—at his hand, more often than not—but _she always came back_ , and in their best times together she made him feel _so_ —

 

So—probably like how he was seeking to feel, with his cellphone still in his hand, as he searched for and proceeded to stare at Frisk’s number.

 

He wanted to call her. He didn't know why. They had just said goodbye what couldn’t be half an hour ago, but he still wanted to.

 

For all the guilt and the shame her very existence often made him feel, she also _so often_ soothed him.

 

He settled for texting. And maybe just annoying her with his jokes would make him feel better.

 

He sent her _just the one text_ :

 

knock, knock - Sans

 

The wait was less than a minute before she replied:

 

Frisk - Come in.

 

And _hah!!_

 

_Ha ha ha ha!!!_

 

She could be _so_ — He _loved_ —

 

He felt _such a huge rush of affection for her_ and that chased off all of his anxieties and _he was just_ _one hundred percent sure_ that _he adored this kid_ , he was _so grateful_ for her.

 

His fingers moved and typed _exactly what he felt_ :

 

you’re amazing. marry me - Sans

 

i am only half kidding – Sans

 

And he _really hadn’t_ thought them through but the texts got sent before he could delete them.

 

He felt like he was suddenly traped inside a _loud and deafening silence_. Or maybe time had stopped.

 

He _shouldn’t have texted her that_ , they were not even officially dating, to write that would be ridiculous, and it was not even remotely funny—

 

_He was her murderer._

 

And he was desperately trying to think of something else to text so he could play all of this off as a lame joke when Alphys answered the door.

 

He froze like an idiot with his phone in his hand and what felt like his soul concentrated in his throat.

 

The phone beeped.

 

He dared a quick glance at the kid’s answer.

 

Frisk - Remind me to defuse your lame jokes more often, nerd. :P

 

Frisk - I love you.

 

And a surge of his magic did what felt like a leap within his chest. And—she’d probably thought he was just joking, he sort of had been and sort of _wasn’t_ —and he was probably reading too much into it but that hadn’t been an _outright_ _refusal_ and—

  
And he imagined _an older Frisk still willingly to hold his hand and be with him_ and—

 

"S-Sans! H-Hi!!! S-Sorry it took me this long," Alphys greeted him. "I, um... I s-said you could come in... Did you... d-did you get my texts?"

 

"i was just reading them. hi, alphys," Sans grinned, quickly pocketing his phone. "you could say i was mustering up the _determination_ to reach into my pocket."

 

Alphys snorted, and Sans quickly remembered why it was that he was at least sort of friends with Alphys.

 

He did often avoid Alphys, but that wasn't because Sans didn't like her. As a person, Sans actually really liked Alphys. She was a very nice monster, if more than a bit shy and socially awkward. And she was a _very_ good scientist... for a biologist.

 

Alphys herself was great, he had zero complaints about her, but as Gaster's replacement...

 

He didn't know if it was that Alphys was genuinely a poor replacement to Gaster professionally. Or if it was just that Sans simply resented the fact that Alphys was only the Royal Scientist because—because nobody remembered how great Gaster had been.

 

No one but Sans remembered Gaster. And sometimes not even Sans remembered Gaster.

 

He... It was hard to think about that. Sometimes it felt like the entire Underground had committed a huge betrayal against Gaster that Sans didn’t entirely know how to fix.

 

"Um!! C-come in!" Alphys told him, shifting her body awkwardly so that Sans could come in through the door. She blushed in embarrassment. "S-Sorry the place is a mess... I h-haven't really had the c-chance to clean up..."

 

Sans himself smirked as he thought of his own bedroom. He had cleaned it up somewhat once he started sharing his room with Frisk—something in his chest leaped again, and Sans _still_ couldn't believe that he was _lucky enough_ to be sharing his room with Frisk—but his room was still considerably messier than Alphys' scattered lab.

 

_Alphys' scattered lab_. Gaster himself had kept it considerably tidier hadn't he?

 

He—He _vaguely_ remembered that.

 

He let himself take in his surroundings. There was dog food scattered all over the floor, as well as empty noodle containers. Quite a few anime figurines were being used as paperweights for papers full of graphs and data. The papers and notebooks seemed to be absolutely _everywhere_ along with scribbles of what looked like statistics. And _the huge tv screen_...

 

...which seemed to have been paused in the middle of what looked like a magical girl anime?

 

And at least that explained why Alphys had kept the television. Her camera system no longer worked. It had felt a tad too intrusive and downright inconvenient to him, when he’d first found out about the cameras during the _not_ -Frisk’s first genocide run, what now felt like decades ago. And after that, he’d always taken care of sabotaging the system. A mixture of magic and strategically placed magnets was all that it took. And he didn’t particularly _like_ being watched—

 

And sometimes he had to stop himself from wondering if he might have possibly been planning to do all the _sick shit_ he’d done to Frisk from the very start. When he’d started paying attention to Frisk— _What_ , exactly, had he thought? That had been ages and ages ago, he _vaguely_ remembered that— But he _couldn’t possibly_ have—

 

She’d had such chubby cheeks. Such a childish, tiny frame. She looked, in her oversized sweater, like she was _drowning_ in it and—  
  
And he couldn’t quite now remember what he had originally thought of her. He vaguely remembered feeling unimpressed. But that _very vivid image_ of Frisk, as a small child, fresh out of the Ruins, was something he had _never forgotten about_ and he—

 

He _hadn’t_ been attracted to that. That hadn’t been quite what had gotten his attention at first. But there had been _something_ in her, that—

 

He couldn’t believe that he had once thought that he and the kid could become _friends_.

 

He grabbed a few of Alphys’ graphs and calculations started looking through them. It was all he could do to not think of Frisk. "so you're working on determination again, eh?" he asked the monster, and _jeez_.

 

She _really_ had been working at it...  
  
Some of these graphs were based on data that Sans himself would have dismissed as irrelevant. Most of it, however, was impressively observant and good. And he was _really_ feeling impressed with Alphys’ close attention to detail, now.

 

Alphys nodded, looking more than a bit embarrassed, not that she had anything to feel embarrassed about, her research was pretty impressive. "Y-Yes! Um… B-but I think I n-need someone to check over my math. I’m n-not… v-very good at it…”—Sans couldn’t help but snort, then quickly covered it with a cough—“I-I’m b-better at b-biology and chemistry…”

  
“i’m sure you’re fine,” Sans assured Alphys with a casual wave of his hand. And he wasn’t lying, all her work seemed fine so far. “is this all just statistics?”  
  
“Mostly… a-and s-some Algebra and Calculus…”  
  
“i can double-check your math if you let me borrow a calculator,” Sans said, exchanging his notebooks with Alphys. “and since you wanted to look over my work anyway, could you check my chemistry in the second notebook? i’m pretty sure it’s a dead end, i don’t think dt is made out of ordinary matter, but—”  
  
“S-Sure!” The current Royal Scientist started to look through his work. Her brows furrowed in concentration, and suddenly her nervousness disappeared. “Um, why is most of this Energy related?”  
  
“i’m pretty sure dt is mostly energy,” Sans said. “i could be wrong, but i’ve effectively _used_ it as energy so—”  
  
“But you can _see_ it,” Alphys said. “It’s red once extracted.”  
  
Something weird sank in Sans’ chest. Frisk’s soul was red. How much DT did she have? Or was that just a coincidence? He almost asked Alphys…  
  
It briefly struck him as hilariously ironic that it was _Alphys_ who was the theoretical expert on humans and yet Sans was the one with the most _hands-on_ experience ( _hah_ ). And there was still so much about humans that Sans simply didn’t _know_ even when _he lived with one_ , had _killed_ several, had—

Had _fucked_ one—

He froze. And he hadn’t truly stopped to consider _that_ fucked-up aspect of the kid’s and his relationship—  
  
_Holy fuck_. He wasn’t even the same species as her.  
  
And he was _fucking her up_ in many different and unforgivable ways wasn’t he. Shit.  
  
_Shit_. _Shit_.  
  
“I’ve always thought of Determination more as a form of very powerful magic,” Alphys admitted to him, interrupting Sans’ thoughts.  
  
Sans forced himself to shrug, still looking over Alphys’ graphs. He—He focused on DT. But he didn’t really care what DT was anymore. “it doesn’t really matter to me what dt is. i consider it a form of energy because that’s what i’ve mostly used it as. and i thought humans couldn’t use magic?” (He thought of Frisk and the other souls, dying over and over at his hand because none of them were strong enough to protect themselves from _his_ magic. Humans _definitely_ didn’t possess any magic.) “not that it matters… the math works just fine if you consider it as a form of energy, so—”  
  
“Well, your math might be right, but just because it’s works as energy doesn’t mean it _is_ ,” Alphys told him. She had moved to grab a fresh notepad from one of her desk drawers and was proceeding to write her own notes based on his. “And w-well… If you think about magic, all we know about is our kind of magic. Maybe humans have a sort of powerful magic within themselves that they can’t always control? I—I mean… When you study the legends, don’t they all state that it was human _magicians_ who put up the Barrier? It—It might definitely be possible for them to possess a sort of magic…”  
  
And it was an interesting hypothesis.  
  
But— “do you have any concrete data to back that up?”  
  
“N-no… It’s just an idea I’ve been having. A—a headcanon, if you will—”  
  
Sans snorted. “maybe you’ve been watching too many magical girl animes. speaking of which, i’m still not feeling entirely _peachy_ about your nectarine girl rec, alphys.”  
  
Alphys blushed. Her nervous stutter came back. “I-It’s a good anime! I th-thought you s-said Papyrus liked it…?”  
  
“yeah, paps thought it was good…”  
  
“I’ll admit the anime wasn’t as good as the manga,” Alphys told him, now speaking fast. “Like, maybe give the manga a try? There are a few things in the manga version that weren’t included in the anime or conveyed the right way. Like, _out of nowhere_ Tairi starting to like Jojo in the anime. They did that because they were, like, restricted to only 25 episodes, but in the manga there’s this whole very long love arc and—um—heh… Y-You don’t really c-care about this do you. S-Sorry. But the manga is r-really good! You sh-should see it… I mean… I-If you w-want to…”  
  
And _no, no way in hell_ would Sans want to, _fuck your Nectarine Girl mangas, Alphys_.  
  
But… But _maybe Frisk_ would want to _…_  
  
He hated himself for doing this but still resigned himself and asked “d’you think i could borrow the mangas from you?”  
  
Alphys beamed. “Y-Yes!!! You’ll love it, I swear! It’s so much better than the anime! I’ll give you the first five volumes before you leave!”

“thanks,” Sans muttered, briefly hating himself and the way he was so influenced by the kid. He was—he was putty in her fragile human hands, sometimes, and she didn’t even know it—  
  
He felt suddenly excited at the thought of Frisk maybe squealing happily when he brought home the mangas for her, in that _adorable way_ she sometimes squealed.  
  
Maybe he’d get lucky and she’d reward him with a kiss. There was a particular way that she would sometimes _very sweetly_ kiss him when she was especially happy with something Sans did. It was one of Sans’ favorite ways to be kissed by her, maybe because it conveyed all her joy and happiness and warmth. And whenever she did that, his bones would go weak and his magic would flutter—  
  
_She_ made him weak and made his magic flutter.  
  
“Is this vector calculus?” Alphys asked him. “Why are you including time in this DT equation?”  
  
And oh. Yeah. _That_ hypothesis.  
  
“you can disregard those,” he told alphys, more out of laziness than anything. He _really_ didn’t want to go over the glitches in the timespace with Alphys. “for a while, i thought maybe dt was strong enough an energy to alter spacetime itself.”  
  
Alphys brows furrowed. “Were you planning to use that, or...?”  
  
“purely academic,” he shrugged, quite literally lying through his teeth. “anyway, it wouldn’t work. for a monster to be able to use dt like that, they’d have to be injected with determination, and it turns out that kind of energy is completely unstable in monster bodies”—He found himself saying and suddenly a foggy image came to mind and something _clicked. Gaster jumping into the timespace. Gaster’s face melting_.—“they would… they would _melt_ … determination and monster souls are incompatible…”  
  
The kid’s soul as red as DT. The kid’s deaths, _when her soul got expelled by her body_ , altering the timespace and RESETting the timelines. The kid…  
  
The kid’s DT…  
  
And _shit_.  
  
The kid’s soul was perhaps stronger than he ever thought possible.  
  
And _maybe that meant_ that _the kid’s soul was the problem_.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm REALLY BEHIND ON ANSWERING YOU ALL and I'm sorry and this Note may not make much sense but here's a thing!:
> 
> Reader SherrySamy drew THIS AWESOMENESS for Chapter 17! http://sayo-samy.deviantart.com/art/Sans-is-a-Creep-595895581?ga_submit_new=10%253A1457681738
> 
> And THEN, like- there's even MORE amazing fanart in the comments. I need to hunt those comments down and ask for permission to share here, but seriously, MORE SUPER GREAT FANART in the comments. Thank you. I'm flattered by all the response and comments and kudos and fanart and fanfiction for this awful thing. You've all been so nice! Thank you SO MUCH!
> 
> YAY!

Alphys herself looked like she was having a breakdown as she very quickly began stuttering something intelligible about the side effects  of Determination. Her entire body was shaking. And Sans would have been more concerned—

 

But he was—he was _such a selfish asshole_. He’d try harder to focus on her long string of words and rambling speech next time, if the world RESET.

 

He was too busy right now feeling a grief that was like a sickness. Like pain and like death. It was the sort of grief that felt like dread and misery, like a hopelessness and a lonely, and tired, and a  _very resigned_ sort of desperation.

 

It left him with the strong aftertaste of a bitter resentment.

 

And he didn’t—he couldn’t possibly _care_ about Alphys at this point. He didn’t have it in him. He was too detached from his immediate reality.

 

His mind was on overdrive. Making quick connections and pessimistic assumptions. And although he hoped beyond hope that he was very wrong—

 

He _knew_ , deep in his soul, that he wasn’t.

 

The kid was singlehandedly affecting the timelines. He just _knew_ it. It made _so much sense_.

 

And that meant Sans had his own personal hell to deal with. And the most he could do was to pretend to listen, pretend everything was fine, as his own mind travelled to Frisk’s Determination and the way the kid—the way _his kid_ —

 

The RESETs were _her fault_ and—

 

And that fact alone was disturbing. It was the worst. Out of all the possible reasons for the RESETs… He’d always suspected that the kid’s deaths somehow manipulated a preexisting glitch in the timespace, but to think that her Determination might be strong enough that she was _causing_ the glitches—

 

It was suddenly looking like _the likeliest possible reason_ for the RESETs and it was distressing and it was _the worst_ because if the kid’s soul was the problem then the RESETs had an easy and very quick remedy.

 

Destroy the soul. Get rid of Frisk. And—

 

_‘If he finds out what you can do, he’s going to kill you over and over until you stop coming back.’_ Where had he heard that?

 

It had made little sense until now.

 

And had he dealt with this problem before? He had a strong feeling of Déjà vu, like this wasn’t the first time he’d had to get rid of an Anomaly. He _hated that feeling_. It didn’t help him feel like he had a full grip on reality, and maybe he _didn’t_ —but—

 

But— _Frisk_ —

  
Suddenly he felt like he _badly needed her_. And the worst part was that he still probably had a few hours to wait through before she was done fishing with Papyrus. The worst part was that he was a few hours away from Frisk. And he felt hollow, and bitter, and _desperate_ — And nothing but Frisk could solve it. Nobody else could help.

 

Nobody else _understood_ and—

 

He  _so wanted_  to go back home and go to Frisk so he could bury his face against her neck like he always did when he felt this miserable. He  _so needed_  to feel her soft fingers running through his bones, hear her soothing voice—let her help him relax, calm down, feel better—

 

And there was _no way_ that he could be honest with her, _this_ time, if she asked him what had happened that had left him feeling so dejected, so hopeless, so depressed. There was no way he could be honest with her when it came to this. And he had—

 

He had grown to _like_ being honest with her, sometimes brutally honest. Sometimes he forgot that _she was just a child_  and the things he would confess to would frighten her to the point she’d stop speaking but he—

 

But  _they_ —

 

He _very often_ felt like they were more than what they really were. Like they were partners. The _best_ of friends. _Almost soul mates_.

 

Not that what they were—that _whatever it is_ that they were—really mattered. The effect of the kid’s Determination on the timespace would have to stay secret either way. And this would be one of _the very few things_ that he would never dare share with her. And perhaps this was the very first confession that he would want to keep from her to spare the kid and not himself.

 

There was simply _no way_ that the kid could know. And as Alphys kept talking, shaking, _almost crying_ about—about something about an erroneous hypothesis and the effect of DT on monster bodies—Sans occasionally nodded and kept to his thoughts.

 

And what else could he  _do_? There was nothing else that he could possibly do.

 

They were _all prisoners_ and _his kid was to blame_.

 

Frisk was the problem within the timespace. It was Frisk what was the glitch ( _who was_  the glitch, _she was a person_ , he _so often_ forgot when he got like this that _she was a person_ ).

 

And how could he not have seen it, when it was now as clear as day? It was suddenly obvious to him that her soul,  _bright DT red in color_  the few times he had seen it, probably contained too high a concentration of DT and it was that extreme concentration, that abnormally high density, that was tearing the timespace apart at the seams and—

 

If DT worked like time’s gravity, the kid was  _a black hole_.

 

Frisk was the problem, the glitch, the _fault_. There was no other explanation that seemed plausible. And he almost laughed because had been going about his research of the RESETs  _all wrong_. He had always expected some sort of _complicated reason_ behind the blips in the timespace, when in reality it was  _all so simple_.

 

Of course the reason would be just the simplest of Newtonian physics. He felt  _so stupid_  not to think about it that way now. Frisk was making the timespace act like a spring. And during each SAVE he had witnessed—hadn't she always looked  _so determined_? The determination was like a _freaking anchor_ , forcing the springs of time to be pulled into a single location. That location, that moment, was weighed down and held in place by the kid’s extra DT, pulling the timespace around it and stretching the timespace as time went forward. And Sans was _so sure_  now that that’s what it was, calculations would  _prove_  it, and as time _went on_ —

 

The potential energy caused by the SAVEs would increase. Then the kid would inevitably die and the anchor would snap. Time moved back, the spring’s potential energy became kinetic—and time would abnormally move backwards when it wasn’t supposed to, the timeline would RESET, the entire process would start again. Kinetic energy would become potential energy and then kinetic again, _over and over_ until the extreme concentration of DT was eradicated. A couple of ridiculously simple equations danced in his head: elastic potential energy, the kinetic energy of a spring… And _what was the k constant_ , the only thing he was missing—the equation would fit, it would  _obviously_  fit, and  _could he ever fix it_? Could he make the spring  _break_?

 

No.

 

The Anomaly, his kid… She was always  _so goddamn determined_. She would always find a way to pull at the timespace, even if she wasn’t aware of it, there was just no way that the RESETs would  _stop_ —

 

There was no way to get the Anomaly to stop triggering RESETs unless he  _literally destroyed her soul or somehow took the Determination out of her_.

 

And he supposed he could always absorb the kid’s soul like she was intending to let Asgore do. Then either the DT would break down and the problem would end, or the DT would stay within him and he would at least be the one in control of the RESETs.

 

But then the kid would have to die. He’d be all alone again. And even if he _weren’t_ completely alone without her—

 

An uncomfortable and painful feeling stirred in his chest.

 

He _did_ love Frisk.

 

Alphys said something about giving up. Sans nodded. In what felt like a surreal part of his mind, he noticed Alphys looking defeated. And _he had seen that sort of broken look somewhere else before_ —with _more hurt_ , with _more grief_ , with _more_ —

 

He stopped.

 

A sudden,  _horrified chill_  went down his spine as he briefly remembered how, once upon a time  _very many timelines ago_ , he could have sworn that he had seen the kid's Determination leave her eyes  _as he fucked it out of her_.

 

And _could he_ … do _that_ again?

 

The _thought of Frisk bound to his bed_ by his magic and _him abusing her_ and _him destroying her_ and _him using her for whatever long it took_ until _she lost all of her Determination_ and until _he was completely satisfied_ and—

 

His mind was racing. He could do that, do it _right now_ , if he wanted to. There was nothing stopping him from excusing himself from Alphys’ lab and _grabbing the kid_ and _stopping time_ and _forcing himself in her_ and—

 

And this particular thought exercise was making him sick. He felt very conflicted. And on the one hand he wanted nothing more than to see _how far he could really go before she was completely broken_ —

 

It would feel—he was _sure_ that it would feel good. It would feel _so fucking good_ to do that. And a part of him was admittedly pissed at the Anomaly for _all the fucking RESETs_ , a part of him thought that if she was the sole reason he’d gone through all of _that_ then she _certainly_ _owed him this much_. And it was _her fault_ that she was that tempting to him and it was _her fault_ for making herself so available to him and it was _the Anomaly’s goddamn fault_ that he was—

 

The anger subsided as quickly as it came and it left him feeling remorseful and guilty. It wasn’t at all the kid’s fault.

 

And it was true that she was the Anomaly but on the other hand this wasn’t just the Anomaly but this was _Frisk_.

 

_His_ Frisk. His sweet kid. The child who had more MERCY than he had ever seen. The only person who had ever looked at him with such love and compassion and devotion that he felt—

 

He felt _so warm_ and loved and understood when he was with her and

 

Alphys started crying for real now. Sans couldn’t help but feel remotely sorry for her. He found himself awkwardly trying to calm the scientist down even as he wished that he could crawl into a hole and die, too. And even if it had been just a thought, he felt that he had betrayed Frisk by even thinking of hurting her like he had been considering—

 

_Not without the safety net of the RESETs. Not if she could remember._

 

He couldn’t do it. He was _hers_ just as much or even more than she was his.

 

“you did all you could, alphys,” he told the scientist, briefly hoping that her current emotional state was really due to a failed experiment, because from her rambling and mostly incoherent speech he had only gathered _that_ much.

 

Apparently Sans had made the right assumption, because although Alphys started crying even harder at his words she still let out an agonized “It w-wasn’t e-e-enough!”

 

And Sans couldn’t understand Alphys but he certainly shared her grief.  


He felt defeated. Nothing he ever did would be enough, too.

 

There was simply no way for him to escape the RESETs. There was just no way that he would betray Frisk like that. And he felt trapped. Condemned.

 

And was _this_ what love was? Just a willingness to remain forever imprisoned?

 

If so, he wanted _no part of it_

 

(but— _for_ _her_ , _a n y t h i n g_ )

 

He felt powerless and weak. He felt— he felt a _very sudden_ burst of panic and suppressed it. Alphys said something about being a failure. He felt a mild relief that he had caught the word ‘failure’ because otherwise he would have once again nodded.   


And poor Alphys. She just kept talking. And how little did she really _know_.

 

Whatever it is she had failed to do didn’t at all matter because they were both condemned to a miserable and constantly repeating existence. Nothing mattered. It would all be erased.

 

And it was entirely _his fault_ , in the end, because Sans was selfish and weak. He didn’t have it in his metaphorical heart to end the kid.

 

He'd fallen too hard. For _the fucking Anomaly_. _Hah_.

  

And because of that mistake he was going to be forever  _condemned_  to  _this_. And so was everyone else, even if they didn't know it ( _would they ever?_ ). _Fucking condemned_ to the unending RESETting of timelines, to a repetitive existence, to being reduced to nothing more than self-replaying automatons bent to the will of time.

 

And Sans wished he hadn't broken free from whatever hold it was that time had on everyone else. Wouldn’t he have been happier if he, too, was trapped in the RESETs’ self-repeating nature? If he was still manipulated by time? Confined to the timelines?

 

What would _Frisk_ have thought of him if he were stuck that way?

 

Would he have even hurt her? Or loved her? Would they have been happier together or would they be complete strangers instead of—

 

(Two very lonely, broken people who had found each other.)

 

(One self-sacrificing and one destructive.)

 

And Frisk was _so very, very altruistic_. There was no way that Frisk could _know_. He would never, in a million timelines, tell her how much effect she really had on the timelines. His kid had too much of a self-sacrificing tendency and, if she knew she was really the cause for the RESETs—

 

If she knew that she was— not the catalyst, not the trigger—she was _the single cause_ , the reason, the fault. Her Determination was the whole trigger for the glitches in the timespace and _fuck_ , if she wasn’t an Anomaly, _fuck_ , if she wasn’t—

 

Literally _the worst thing that ever happened to him_ and—

 

He reprimanded himself  _so quickly_  and harshly for thinking that. And it was not even remotely true at all. And in the end, it didn’t matter what Frisk was.   
  
And there was nothing left to do but to _give up_.  
  
Alphys’ speech had slowed down considerably. “—for r-rambling at you l-like that. I j-just… f-felt like I had to t-tell s-someone and…”   
  
“yeah, sure,” Sans said, feeling incredibly awkward and—

 

_Anxious_. Suddenly, he felt _so very anxious_.

   
“U-Um. D-do you h-hate me now?? You’ve b-been v-very quiet… I un-understand i-if you d-do…,” Alphys told him. Her voice was full of concern.   
  
And—And he didn’t hate Alphys. But was he shaking? _Hah_. _Ha ha hah_. Why—Why was _that_?

 

This was _bizarre_. It had finally happened. He’d snapped, he’d _snapped for good_ and—  
  
He felt a _strong rage_ and suddenly wanted nothing more than to  _burn someone, anyone to a fucking crisp_  with one of his Gaster Blasters and see if after the timeline RESET, if they remembered  _that_.  
  
He froze. Sans froze. And where was this sudden  _rage_  coming from?  
  
He felt frantic. Out of control. Anxious and sick. And something was  _very, very wrong_  but Sans couldn’t quite place if the wrongness was within himself or not.   
  
He felt the strong need to  _get out of there._  He needed to  _find Frisk_. She was by the lake, it was past noon, she should be with Papyrus, so why was he feeling  _so_ …  


So _threatened_ and _pissed_ and _it felt as if their bond was breaking the feeling of a glitch coming he was paranoid he was imagining things_ he—

  
He had been _too selfishly focused on himself_ and not enough on _her_ and their cruel connection and he didn’t notice it until it was too late and  


  
**The timeline E N D E D .**  
  
  
Sans was in the bright space again. Unable to move, once again. He was paralyzed in place. The kid was dead. Or, rather—the kid _had died_. There was an almost hysterical, uncontained and mocking laughter that filled the space and echoed in his ear drums, and the laughs almost sounded sincere.  
  
Maybe the laughter _was_ sincere, but it threw Sans off how uncharacteristically _un-Frisk-like_ it sounded. It wasn’t Frisk who was laughing.

 

The redhead stood in front of a very dismayed looking Frisk. Both humans were quite a distance from him. And Chara was doubled over in laughter, hands to their stomach, _actual tears of laughter_ falling from their eyes in a way that _so completely pissed Sans off_ and— He could very clearly hear what they were saying, Chara wasn’t making an effort to keep quiet. "Oh my _god!!!”—_ they said, gasping for air and sounding entirely yet pleasantly surprised—“ _Ha ha ha_ that was _priceless_! I can't _believe_ Asriel did that, that was _so incredibly_ clever—"

 

His Frisk was looking decidedly ashamed and broken. And _who_ did _what_?

 

_Why had the timeline RESET?_

 

" _Betrayed by Papyrus!!_ " the redhead exclaimed with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. They sounded incredibly entertained in between their bursts of laughter. And Chara almost made it seem like Frisk had just been the victim of the funniest prank in the world, but maybe it was Sans who was being pranked, because

 

_B e t r a y e d  b y . . ._ _W  h  a  t  ?_  

 

The redhead kept laughing so hard, they seemed to be only barely able choke out their words. "I _can't believe_ — _ha ha ha ha!!!_ And you _fell_ for that! You’re _so stupid_ , Frisk! Well, we _both_ fell for _that_ one! How long d'you think that took him? Ha ha ha— _Wait!_ Wait! Hang on!! Let’s tell _Sansy_!”

 

Suddenly Chara turned to him with an  e e r i l y  h u g e  s m i l e  and said “Let’s see what _our bonefriend_ has to say to _this_!”   
  
That seemed to snap Frisk out of whatever bleak space her mind had gone to. “Chara! _Don’t_!!”   
  
Chara waved Frisk off and yelled at Sans, “Yo! _Sansy!_ Guess what _Papyrus_ did to _Frisk_!”

 

Frisk pushed Chara. “He didn’t mean for that to happen! Papyrus didn’t _know_!”  
  
Chara’s laughter started again at that. “Well, of _course_ he didn’t know! He’s always been quite the _moron_ , hasn’t he? But anyway—“ they yelled again at Sans—“Your Pappy helped his buddy Undyne kill Frisk, Sans! Ha ha ha!!! This last RESET was brought courtesy of Papyrus! Isn’t that _funny_? You have a betrayer of a brother and a murderer fish for a friend, Sansy! But _of course_ you’re still the worst of the bunch, don’t get jealous, now. Nobody _else_ has raped Frisk, you—”  
  
Frisk pushed them again almost like she would a taunting sibling. “Chara! _STOP!_ ”   
  
“I _just_ want to tell him while he’s _here_ ,” Chara said and pushed Frisk back, holding her back with an arm before they playfully made a shushing motion with their other hand and a finger on their lips. They were a few inches taller than Frisk was, and in his stunned state Sans bizarrely noticed how _child-like_ the redhead looked, acted— Were they _only just slightly older_ than Frisk?

 

In his shock and his confusion he couldn’t help but notice _how young the two of them really were_.

 

And _he’d more than once killed them both_. He was _in a sort of relationship with one of them_.

 

He felt _so very out of place_ , all of a sudden—

 

And he’d never really noticed before how childishly his Frisk and the _not-Frisk_ interacted with each other while they were in the bright space.

 

Frisk opened her mouth to say something and Chara pushed her again. “I said _shush_!” Chara told Frisk. “You _always_ get to be the one to talk to him! My turn now”—and then—“ _Sansy_ , you _sadistic child fucker_ —”

 

“ _DON’T, Chara!_ Don’t taunt him, I love him—”

 

"—I know _what you do to her_ , I'm _always there_ , you _sick_ —" 

 

“CHARA!”—Frisk pushed them—  
  
“ _FRISK!_ ” Chara taunted, pushing back, and then they started fighting, pushing and shoving each other, _almost like siblings_ , it was _bizarre_ —

 

It felt surreal to think that one of them had once played in his brother’s dust and the other one was in an almost sexual relationship with him—

 

Sans was frozen in place due to more than just a physical inability to move.  
  
And—

 

_Who the_ fuck _was Asriel_?  
  
Had Papyrus _really_ helped Undyne kill _Frisk_?

 

He felt like all he could do was watch them as he waited for the timeline to be RESET. It looked like either Chara or Frisk could take over at this point. And then Chara pinned Frisk to the ground, briefly looking like they had emerged victorious, but then they spat a poisonous “ _Fine!_

 

“Go back to _him_ , then! Like I _care_ if you let him feel us up! But don’t come crying back _here_ when he _rapes you again_ , you _know_ he _will_ —”

 

And Frisk looked on the verge of tears. Her cheeks were a bright pink. The kid looked angry, embarrassed and humiliated. She glared at Chara, whose grin became malicious as they stood up and glared _at Sans_.

 

“Anyway,” Chara said, speaking rather cheerfully now even as their words sounded as if they dripped with a thick poison. “I strongly suggest that you don’t spend as much time with _this_ one during the next timeline, Frisky”—they gestured to Sans, still immobile, still stunned, and—“I _know_ Asriel…” Chara _grinned_ ,

 

“He was _definitely_ acting out because he was   ** _J e a l o u s_.** ”  
  
Sans saw his rage before he felt it. His vision took on a blue tinge—blue from _his magic_ —and

 

Chara had panic clear on their eyes now even as they kept taunting. “Oh, _shit!_ _Ha ha ha ha!!!_ Would you look at that? He’s _super pissed_ , you’re really done for now!” Chara grabbed Frisk’s hand and pulled her up and then pushed her towards Sans. Frisk _flinched_ and tried to _back away_.

 

“I _really_ don’t want to be the one in control for the next round!”—they laughed, pushing Frisk again towards Sans—

 

“ _Stop!_ ”

 

Chara ignored Frisk, pushed her _again_ towards Sans, or maybe they were _hiding behind her and from him_. “Your turn again! Reset, ‘ _kiddo_ ’! Let’s see how much our Sansy L.O.V.E.s you now! _”_

 

Sans tried to use his magic.

 

And then the world once again  


  
**R E S E T .**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things! (If I may have a word):
> 
> \- I feel like the first scene was unnecessarily long and repetitive so it's on my list of things to edit once I go back and edit this whole fic.
> 
> \- But on the plus side Chara kind of took over the second scene and I kind of really loved it. I had to stop myself from writing them. They ALMOST altered the entire storyline (the next chapter is about halfway done), and now I really want to write Chara more.
> 
> \- Speaking of the storyline, I really don't enjoy writing sex scenes. Which it just so happens is really good for the horrible aspect of the sex scenes in this fic! But brief poll: Explicit sex in this story yay or nay? Like, can I avoid the explicit aspect if I can, does it really contribute to the fic at this point, am I making sense? Can I get away with skipping it, or would people miss that horrible aspect of this horrible fic? 
> 
> (I'm never ever going to intentionally write this as porn but I do sometimes worry about my own life choices.)


	32. Chapter 32

He was having a nice dream for once. He was reliving a happy moment in a less than happy timeline.

 

Sans was hiking through the Snowdin forest with Frisk. He remember it being at the kid's insistence. And he was often _so_ lazy, _so apathetic_ , but the kid had managed to convince him to join her in exploring a small dirt trail that ended up leading to a cliff. Even Sans had to admit that the view from up there had been stunning. And Frisk had been _so_ pleasantly surprised and happy that _she'd hugged him_ —

 

"I'm _so, so glad_ you're here with me. I love you," she'd told him. She looked up to him with a happy sort of affection, and then she'd stood on her toes and _very sweetly kissed him_.

 

Frisk could be _so cute_.

 

And he was surreally aware that this was a dream. He was vaguely aware that he was really in his bed sleeping with an arm around Frisk. He tightened his grip around the kid. He loved her so much. And in the dream, he held her hand and told her so—

 

He was somewhat aware in the back of his mind that he was muttering his “i love you, too,” against the kid’s neck in the conscious world, too.

 

And maybe he could even change his dream a _little_ bit. Because sometimes he felt that ‘I love you’ just didn’t suffice. Maybe he could change the dream so that he could tell her just _exactly_ how much, how _so_ _very much_ he really loved her. Maybe he could find a decent way to express how desperately he wanted to be with her, because he _did_.

 

He tried doing that and in the dream he opened his mouth to confess but then he woke up to an unbearable pain.

 

He immediately recognized the awful feeling.

 

And he knew straightaway that the timeline had been RESET. The kid had clearly SAVEd here. She had SAVEd while they were sleeping, again. Sans sat up, panicked, and sent a quick, by now instinctive wave of barely controlled magic up into the timespace—

 

Frisk had to be frozen in time too, and he hated doing that to her. But his RESETs were still far worse than hers. He didn’t want her to see. And he often worried, if she saw him going through what would eventually happen to her, that it might upset her far too much, too early, and he was afraid—

 

He would save her from that for as long as possible and— _hah_. It was almost funny that he was just _now_ worrying about preserving her innocence and...

 

He would have laughed at his own hypocrisy if it weren’t for the fact that somebody was loudly screaming. That someone was him. _Fuck_. It was _Sans_ who was screaming.

 

There was nobody else. He couldn't breathe. His magic was pouring out of him; he was vomiting out the thick blue substance in waves. And it oozed out of his eyes, his ears, his nose— He was _choking_. He was _dying_. He was _dead_ , he _had_ to be…

 

A loud sob. A desperate wail and a _scream_ and a cry of pain. The memories forced themselves into him as he alternated between screaming, crying and gasping for breath. He remembered his chat with Alphys. He remembered every moment spent with the kid. He remembered what he'd had for lunch in what would now be the future, everything that would be on TV tonight and every night for the next week, he remembered ignoring _yet another phone call from Grillby_ , Papyrus’ multiple arguments with him over Sans’ sock still on the floor, Frisk's face, Frisk's soft lips, conversations with Papyrus, Frisk's every expression, the temptation to fuck her, and it was _too much_ , there was _no room for more_ , the memories _hurt_ , and none of this had even happened yet, the memories were _confusing, unnecessary, painful, unwelcome, he didn't want them_ —

 

_S T O P ! ! !_

_(It didn’t stop.)_

 

The bright space came to mind suddenly and he found himself forced to remember what had happened while his soul was torn out of his body, too.

 

Chara taunting Frisk. Chara blaming Frisk’s death on Papyrus. The news that Undyne had killed his kid, it filled him with _rage_ , he could barely contain it—

 

 _The room went blue_ and—

 

_Rage. Pain. Jealousy._

 

_Who the fuck was Asriel? He was jealous? The fuck—_

 

Chara _better be fucking lying_ because _if Frisk had been cheating on him, he would_ —

 

 _He could kill her right now_. _She wouldn't even know it. RESET._ _Find whomever the fuck Asriel was. Kill Undyne. Keep an eye on Papyrus. Stop letting Frisk out of his sight—_

_Not let her leave his bed and take it_ all _out on her and force himself inside of her until she knew whose she was and—_

 

The worst of it eventually passed. His sobs subsided. And so did the screams, but he was _so full_ of hate. He was _furious_ , he was _so mad_ , he _hated everything_ , he needed to _talk_ to Frisk and—

 

He bit his tongue and retrieved his magic and time started to move once again. He rolled on top of Frisk and he was still _mad_ , _so mad_ , _so jealous_ , _possessive_ , Frisk was already awake and he rather forcefully grabbed her wrists and she _better_

 

_E x p l a i n ._

And then out of her came a _very_ _small_ _whimper._

 

A pained expression on the kid’s face. 

 

And it— It _broke his heart_. His kid—

 

 _Just a child_ and the kid was already suffering through her own RESETs.

 

It felt like the sound of her little cry had pierced him straight through the chest. And he was suddenly filled with a sharp pain and pity.

 

And it _hurt_. His chest hurt for her. The kid's pain was _getting worse_ and—

 

He felt guilty and ashamed. He could be so selfish. His kid, _his Frisk_ —The RESETs were still _so new_ to her and 

 

His _poor little Frisk_. It would only get worse for her from here. _Worse_ and _worse_ and _worse_ until she was in an agonizing and blinding pain, like him, until the pain became worse than death, just like his.

 

And _how could he have ever wanted this for her?_ How could he have _wished—_

 

What kind of _selfish monster_ was _he_ that—

 

He pressed his forehead against the kid’s and tried his best to comfort her even though he knew his best attempts _couldn’t possibly be enough_.

 

"shh, kiddo, shhhh" he whispered, feeling _useless_ , _inadequate_ , _weak_. And he forced away his anger and his hate and his jealousy, _for now_ , because right now _she needed him_ and—

 

His kid. His poor sweet kid. His Frisk.

 

He stroked her hair and _she flinched_. He felt a flash of hurt followed by guilt. And he was forced to face the reality that he didn’t know what it was that she was remembering. She knew that he had hurt her. She knew what he had done. And was she remembering a particularly bad moment, a bad timeline, a bad Sans?

 

Her pain was all his fault.

 

He _didn’t deserve_ to be here to comfort her.

 

But he was _all she had_ and—

 

"it’s— it’s okay, kiddo. _shhh_. i won't hurt you," he found himself softly saying, wondering just what it was she was remembering him doing to her as he tried to calm her down. "i won't hurt you, frisk. this isn't a bad timeline. i don't plan to…” _To…_

 

_To force myself on you and then kill you like I did_

  
_Torture you for hours and laugh at your pain before inflicting some more and watch you bleed to death like I—_

  
_Pierce you with bones, burn you with gaster blasters, stab you with my cock because, goddammit, you feel so good and_

 

And he wanted all those memories _out_.

 

He _hated, hated, hated himself_.  


He was _sickening, dirty, revolting, worthless._ He was the most _awful, disgusting filth_. He’d _hurt her so much_ , he _didn’t deserve_ —  


He almost cried out and almost started to once again beg her for forgiveness and almost   _hid his face against her neck_ and almost _squeezed the air out of her throat_ and almost—

 

She stopped the spiral of his self-hate and destructive impulses when she spoke and

 

"Sorry. It just— My head hurts," she shyly told him, voice so small that it nearly broke him in two. He kissed her forehead and her nose and her cheeks and her lips once, _twice_ , he was anxious…

 

“i’m sorry. i’m _so, so sorry_ , kiddo,” he whispered. "i'm so sorry for what i did, sorry you're going through this, i... i know it hurts. it’ll be alright."—he tried to conjure up enough magic to soothe her with blue lines against her skin but his shaky hands could only hold her tighter and she _winced_ — _shit_ —" _sorry_. i’m sorry. i've gone through the same thing, i… it’ll be okay,” ( _he was lying_ , it _hurt_ that he was _lying_ , it would get _worse_ ) “i… i love you. i _really love you_. i wish…”

 

She _very gently_ moved her hands to stroke his face and sweetly told him “I’ll be alright. I love you, too.”  
  
And that turned out to be more than enough to make the desperate part of him suddenly come out because he—

 

The fact that _she loved him_ —that _she_ loved him— A mixture of good and bad timelines danced in his mind, but _she loved him_ , out of all the people she could have chosen, _she_ _loved him_ —and…

 

He felt a _very strong and desperate need_ that he didn’t quite know how to repress.

 

And he was already on top of her. He moved his face once again close to hers and he kissed her. And he suddenly felt _so needy_ and _horny_ and _he forced his tongue in her mouth_ , forced _all his want and desperation and his frantic, selfish love into her_ and 

 

She _choked out a sob against his mouth_.

 

It _turned him on_. It _turned him on so much_.

 

And he knew from more than one experience that if he chose to have her _now_ , she would have _no choice but to take it_.

 

Knowing that he _could_ made him almost lose control.

 

And suddenly he felt like _holding her down by the neck_. He grabbed at the pillow underneath her instead. And he _begged her_ , need and lust _thick in his voice_ , “ _shh_ , don’t cry, _please don’t cry,_ kiddo, i _just want_ — _i’ll be gentle_ , ok?— _i just need_ —”

 

And he stopped himself when he caught himself realizing he was

 

 _Basically begging a child for intimacy_ _and_

 

The sudden realization left him shaken and horrified on top of her and he couldn’t for the life of him understand just—just what—

 

 _What it was that he was doing_. He had told himself he _wouldn’t_. And

 

Their entire relationship was just _mistake_ over _mistake_ over _mistake_.

 

He shouldn’t have _ever_ shared his bed with this kid. He was suddenly keenly aware of the fact that he had forced himself on her on this very bed. And he had _killed her here_. He had _touched her here_. _Why was she here with him_. She’d never run away from him but _he_ was supposed to know better, he was _much older_ , he should have insisted from the very start that she keep sleeping at the Inn instead of _sharing his house and his bed_ and—

 

There were what felt like the remnants of _thousands_ upon _thousands_ of timelines living on inside his skull and an unending stream of memories still dancing in his head and

 

_There was blood. So much blood. Hah._

_Gaster. Gone._

_Tortured his kid._

_Papyrus. Repeating._

_Promised the lady that he’d—_

_Grillby wanted a word._

_He told Asgore not to worry about it._

_It was the kid’s DT._

_It was the flower’s fault._

_It was—_

 

It was _too much, it was far too much_ —

 

And maybe she saw the horror and the pain and the _self-disgust_ on his face because she suddenly frightened him with _the sheer extent of her altruistic MERCY and_.

 

He _certainly saw_ the resigned, _determined look_ in her eyes as she moved her hands from his face down to his neck, his chest…  


_Underneath his shirt_ and _she was inviting him, did she know that she was?_ And she looked a little sad or perhaps afraid but _so incredibly determined_ and—

 

It _sent a chill of cold fear down his spine_.

 

“Please just— I’ll do whatever you need me to do,” she whispered. Shy. _Tempting_. Vulnerable. “Sans, I’d do anything for you.”  


He words felt _like a knife piercing his chest_. She added a sincere and sweet “I love you.”

 

And he didn’t want her to feel like she ‘ _had_ to’— _anything_.

 

It hurt that she trusted him this much and it _hurt_ —the way he felt his shaky hands leaving her pillow, moving down as if on their own accord to ride up her shirt, _feeling her skin_ , she was _so warm_ , the softness _felt good_ , she was _unmoving_ , _so willing, to let him_ —

 

“are you—are you _sure_?” he found himself asking her, _horrified_ , _terrified_ , _mesmerized_. He was afraid but _transfixed_ and— The mere thought that _he could_ _have_ —

 

He knew she’d feel _so good_ _around his cock_. It would feel _so good for him if he just fucked her again_. She felt so good, she always felt good, she meant _warmth_ and _love_ and _comfort_ and _He needed to feel good_. Just _once_. Just _this once_. _Just one more time_. And he could probably make it up to her if he took her much too early again. He could probably make her come. And if she felt good, too, _if she enjoyed it_ , if he made it so that _his touch_ did to _her_ what _hers_ _did to_ _him_ it would—

 

It would feel _so good_. It could be _so good_.

 

And he _wanted_ that. (Did _she_?)

 

His throat felt dry.  
  
Her skin was soft.

 

And when her cheeks went pink and she shyly nodded, _Sans didn’t think it twice._

 

He threw himself at her and kissed her, pressing erratic flutters of magic against her lips. And as his hands moved across her body—frantic and desperate and _no magic yet_ , he felt _so inadequate_ , he was just bones and—

 

She kissed him back. She must _really, really_ love him.

 

He loved her too and he— he _told_ her— she meant _so very much_ to him and—

 

“i love you, i love you,” he told her between kisses, _over and over_ as his hands moved up and down her waist, her hips, her thighs, her chest. He felt _Needy_. _Desperate_. _Possessive_. _Bold_. And she was wearing a pair of his shorts as pajamas but pretty soon she was _not_ and _she let him take his shirt off of her_ and

 

_His mouth on her neck._

_His hands up her chest._

 

And his breath against her skin, rushed and erratic and desperate. There was a distinct undercurrent of fear in him overthrown by a sudden boldness. And he _told_ her again, perhaps to make it up to her, wanting to make sure that she knew exactly how he felt, “i really _do_ love you.”

 

And then a desperate promise that “ _i’ll be good_ , _i’ll be gentle_ , _i’ll go slow_ , frisk, i _promise_ —”

 

He made her spread her legs for him and moved a hand down to her inner thighs and he started slowly massaging whatever magic he could muster slowly _up and down_ and—

 

He felt _so filthy_. Like he was going to again _force her to like it._ And—

 

 _The image of Frisk, holding hands with him ten years from now._ Gone.

 

 _Frisk in a wedding dress. Frisk agreeing to marry him._ Gone.

 

 _Frisk on a real date with him._ Gone. _Frisk starting a family with him._ Gone. _Frisk officially moving into the house, Frisk laughing at his stupid jokes, Frisk and Papyrus teaming up to nag at him when he was too lazy, Frisk…_

_Gone_ , _gone_ , _gone_ and…

 

Gone was the dream that he could ever be good to her.

 

Gone were his hopes that they could still somehow end up together.

 

Gone were his wishes, gone were his daydreams, gone were his wants for her and his hopes for _them_ and _all because_ —

 

Of the _stupid RESETs_. His _selfish lust_. His _need_ and his _desperation_ and

 

His mind was full.

 

And when he _kept going_ , it took him a considerable effort to produce his tongue. His magic felt frantic and unreliable. _Unsafe_. Yet when he finally managed it, he licked at her skin and tasted her neck.

 

She gave such a _small, quiet little moan_. And it felt _so, so good_ to hear it. It felt _deliriously good_ to know that he could at least give her _something_ because _he wanted_ —

 

To make her _feel good_ and—

 

“i’ve wanted this for _so, so long_ , frisk,” he whispered against her ear before he _very softly_ bit her earlobe. He licked the soft skin of it with his tongue, and _there it was again_ —

 

A _quiet little moan_. He felt triumphant. And she was _so young_ and yet— _no, no , no_. This was _the older Frisk_ he was having. She was old enough and she knew what she wanted _and yet she chose_ _him_ and—

 

And “do you know how great it feels, to know that someone like _you_ could love _me_?”

 

A more stable, thick trail of his blue magic going _up her thigh and brushing her clit_ before it kept going _up, up_ across her torso to her breasts and—

 

A sudden flash of jealousy and it was completely irrational. He told himself he didn’t have to worry, to fall into the redhead’s trap would be _stupid_ , but still—

 

“you know you’re _mine_ , right, kiddo? not anyone else’s, right?”

 

A kiss on her neck and his hand massaging her breast and—

 

A _flash of anger_ and a need for reassurance. “you’d _never_ _let anyone else_ touch you like you let _me_ , would you?”

 

He looked up at her just long enough to see her very shyly shake her head and the honesty in her expression, her wide-eyed innocence, it _intoxicated_ him and made him feel _so very loved_ and _devoted_ to her and

 

He lowered his head and his mouth on her breast. His hand moving down, he had to force her legs again apart. But when he _did_ , she _didn’t resist_ and—

 

“you promise? you’re just for me, huh,” he grinned. “ _wow_.”  
  
A tingling cushion of blue magic around his fingers. “do you know why i love you?”

 

Those same fingers around her clit, circling her entrance, he couldn’t wait… He _wanted_ to wait. She _bit her lip_. “you’re _so good_ , so _sweet_ , so _stunning,_ just _perfect_ …”

 

“i’m so _in love with you_ , frisk. i’ve never felt this way with anyone before, did you know that?” A little gasp from her and—“have i told you?”—he very briefly probed her entrance with the tip of a single finger and—“do you know how much i _want_ you?”

 

_And fuck if she wasn’t wet for him._

He licked her neck and gently _bit_.

 

And then _she flinched_ and—

 

He paused. “are you okay?”

 

A very shy and shaky nod of her head.

 

A _very disturbing_ moment of clarity and _the feeling of wrongness_ from having her _naked under him_ and—

 

In the back of his mind, he knew he should be frantically pulling himself _off of her_ because _shit, shit_ —he _shouldn’t be doing this_ , this was—

 

Her face was flushed and her breaths were shallow as she _pulled him in a kiss_ and—  
  
And _how could he resist?_

_He was sin, desperation and guilt._  
  
He pulled at the waistband of his shorts and made an effort to steady his magic and conjured his cock and _he_

_very_

_slowly_

_pushed it in._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's no consensual sex in this story. 
> 
> None.
> 
> But THIS CHAPTER. ARGH. I hate this chapter. With a passion. Sorry it took me this long to publish it. I've been writing it and rewriting it for DAYS, quietly sulking because I kept debating on whether Sans would or wouldn't, whether Frisk would or wouldn't, how to blur the line between loving sex and nonconsent and you know what. Now it stays like that. This chapter stays like that. Grrr. GRRR. I've done what I could. [/downs a shot of ketchup and hits Post Without Preview]


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This terrible thing has gotten so many new readers. Where are y'all coming from!?
> 
> ANYWAY! FANART! FANART! FANART! (Oh! And I have a Tumblr now but don't understand it: http://kenyaketchup.tumblr.com/):
> 
> mushi6618 did THIS BEAUTIFUL THING THAT I'M STILL NOT OVER: http://mushi6618.deviantart.com/art/CreepSans-Not-Ment-For-Them-164800600
> 
> WhenIWasAYoungBoy did THIS HOLY COW SDDFGHJJHG: http://dragonfuryflame.tumblr.com/post/141682594393/this-is-some-fan-art-i-did-for-like-a-feather-and
> 
> Ms.Cyclops did this awesome thing and it's NSFW! NSFW! NSFW! but DAMN IT it's great: http://s1055.photobucket.com/user/MsCyclops/media/BasicallyCreep_zpstojxcgqn.png.html
> 
> And I attempted to make Creep!Sans look cute and may have failed miserably/made him creepier but I had fun: http://kenyaketchup.deviantart.com/art/A-CUTE-603074814
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and being so nice and awesome! (Also, if you haven't read it, Deempe's "ハンサムな探偵対倒錯スケルトン Battle of Pervert Sans!" is the greatest -and, uh, so far only- Creep!Parody that ever was GO GO AND LOL W/ IT.)

They— They didn't talk about what they did after they did it.

 

He selfishly and irrationally hoped that they never did. And maybe they could learn to forget that this had ever happened. They could pretend that this hadn’t become yet another timeline where he had been impatient and desperate, fucking things up and fucking Frisk  _far too early_.

 

 _Again_.

 

No matter how much he tried, he just wasn’t meant to be good to Frisk. He was disgusting.

 

He was a _horrible_ skeleton. And _he'd_   _fucked his kid again_. He'd  _fucked his kid_. He’d been _weak_ , he’d been _selfish_ and…

 

He wanted to die inside his sentry station. He wanted to disappear just like Gaster had. He wanted Frisk to forget him. He wanted life to go on without him. He wanted to die, _he wanted to die_ …

 

He was _worthless_ , _harmful, sick_ …

 

He'd fucked the little girl he had first met here not that many years ago. He’d once wished they could be friends. And he'd  _taken advantage_  of her instead he had  _hurt her again_  he was a  _perverted_ ,  _selfish_ ,  _manipulative_   _sick fuck_  and—

 

He hated himself. He was so tired of living like this. He wanted to sleep. And all he had to make him feel even remotely happy was Frisk.

 

It had felt—  _so good_

 

to make love to Frisk.

 

And he felt so afraid and guilty and out of place and undeserving to even think of what they’d done in that context, but to him that had been precisely what they’d done and...

 

He felt something like a nervous, hopeful flicker inside his chest and _suppressed_ it.

 

To Frisk, sex with him had probably been some sort of terrible sacrifice.

 

His figurative heart sank. She’d cried.

  
And all he’d wanted—He’d just wanted to feel… better, closer…

at her expense

 

And he hoped beyond hope—he _really hoped_  it had _at least_ felt good for her too. He hoped that she had at least partly wanted it. But this was the girl whose MERCY had led her to sacrifice herself more than once, and she had—

 

She had remained  _so still_ ,  _so completely passive_  and  _tense_  at first, as he fucked her. Her head hidden against his chest and her delicate hands holding onto the front of his shirt and—

 

He had  _really thought_ , or maybe he had  _made himself think_ , that she was being shy. Had told himself that she just didn't know what to do, since she was so young, so inexperienced. And he'd even grown excited at the prospect of actually  _teaching_  her—of being the one to _teach her how good it could feel to have sex with him_ —

 

His thrusts had gotten harsher the more excited he got and it took a considerable effort to go back to a slower, gentler pace.

 

(It was in general a considerable effort to fuck her so gently when he'd grown accustomed to physically forcing himself in.)

 

And he'd lost count of the many times he told her " _i love you_ ". Sometimes, she even whispered it back.

 

He lost track of all he had said to her. He had been _selfishly honest_ , in hindsight. Sans had told her about his dreams of her and his hopes for them and the way that he felt when he was with her and how  _very much_  he loved her, how  _so very much_...

 

One of his thrusts had gone in too deep and hit a spot that forced out of her a surprised, panicky moan and she was  _so new to this_ —

 

She was  _so young_. He loved her _so much_. He was older, he could take care of her—

 

He could look after her until she grew up, he’d promise—

 

Another sharp little moan from her and he'd had to put his hand over her mouth to silence her—

(" _can't remember if papyrus is home_ " and " _we have to keep this—_ ah _,_ shit _—this thing between us quiet, ok? you know i'm not supposed to fuck you,_ " as he thrust a little bit more fiercely into her)

—before hitting the same spot  _again_  and  _again_  and—

 

Stifled moans and screams against his hand. She looked thoroughly aroused yet terrified. It had turned him on. He wished he could go harsher, draw blood. He felt a strong desire to  _wrap his other hand around her throat_ and  _choke the life out of her_  and—

 

He'd slowed down once he'd felt she was close.

 

He'd  _slowly_  picked up the pace again and then again slowed down.

 

And he did this a couple more times until  _he_  was ready to come, and then he—

 

He did start thrusting into her a bit  _harshly_ , but she was liking it.

 

One hand still silencing her mouth. The other one on her clit.

 

And she had actually rolled her hips to give him better access and—

 

 _Fuck_ , he loved her. He  _really, really_  loved her.

 

She came with muffled moans followed by  _a scream against his hand_  and then he shot his load in her and—

 

She’d started crying,  _sobbing_ , while he was still pumping his orgasm into her.

 

He had been frozen in place by a _cold fear_ _and dread_ that numbed his mind and his senses.

 

And all he heard was his little Frisk crying. She was _just a kid_ , had he forgotten? Just a kid who had somehow trusted him and  

 

That he had been  _sick enough_  to take her—He was  _worthless_ ,  _disgusting_ —

 

He vanished his cock. She pressed her face more firmly against his chest and she sobbed and _hugged him_ —

 

" _Sorry, I didn't meant to cry, I really love you, please Sans, I’m sorry..._ "

 

He wanted to die.

 

She was clinging to him because he was  _all she had_.

 

And she was  _so sad_ , so  _desperate_  and  _lonely_...

 

_(He'd raped her he'd raped her he'd used her betrayed her it hurt he was sick sick so sick he was bad he was terrible he couldn't undo this he was a danger to his kid no matter how hard he tried he was violence guilt and sin he was awful disgusting the worst for his kid he)_

 

He wanted to  _just go to sleep_  and try to forget that  _he had done this_.

 

_(And a selfish, sickening part of him hoped that when he woke up the kid would be done crying and she would be willing to let him take her again and again and again for as long as it took for her to grow to want it he wanted her to want it he needed her to want him he)_

 

He couldn't sleep. Not while Frisk needed him. And he was nothing but a dirty, and sinful, and  _selfish hypocrite_ , but he still kissed the top of her head and he still stayed and let her cry against him and he still said, his voice a confession that was barely above a sad whisper as he stroked her short hair—

 

"i really  _do_  love you, frisk." _please_ believe that. it’s true.

 

And the words just felt meaningless.

 

 

 

He had stayed with her until she fell asleep, alternating between apologizing and selfishly trying to explain that what they'd done was simply something that adults sometimes did when—

 

When they were  _hopelessly in love_ , like _he_ was.

 

He loved her  _so, so much_  that it hurt. And he was  _hopelessly in love_  and  _hopelessly devoted_  and "i only did it because i love you  _so, so much_ , kiddo”. i love you. _please_ understand. _i love you_.

 

He left out how often he’d told himself it was just meaningless sex.

 

(That wasn't at all what they had done or so  _he hoped_. He hoped it hadn’t meaningless for her. It  _hadn't been for him_  and he really,  _really_  wished... He hadn’t done it just to get off. He hoped she  _knew_  that. He  _hoped_ …)

 

 

 

He spent the rest of the night on the couch after she fell asleep.

 

He couldn’t sleep. His thoughts kept him awake.

 

Time passed.

 

 

 

When early morning came, he left for "work" before Papyrus was even up.

 

 

  
And now here he stood, hand about to knock on Toriel’s door even though he knew it was too early for her to be even up. He didn’t know what else to do. He felt like—

 

Like talking about Frisk. Not the _bad truth_ —that he was in love with her—but the little things that the kid did. How good she’d gotten at painting. How kind she was to Papyrus. How she’d been in charge of grocery shopping that week, _all by herself_ , and had done such a good job he could have sworn that she could live on her own already. How her favorite anime had changed again. How she’d gotten slightly taller. How she’d—

 

Everything, just _everything_ , about Frisk.  
  
Toriel always, always wanted to talk about Frisk and the way she loved the kid was _so often_ in sync with the way Sans could sometimes love her.

 

_The image of Frisk with his blue come oozing out of her._

 

He didn’t knock.

 

 

 

And he supposed that at this point he might as well kill her. It was the kindest thing he could do. Maybe she would still remember, but at least in the next timeline what he’d done wouldn’t have _happened_.

 

It would have been erased. It would no longer matter.

 

He couldn’t _possibly_ envision killing Frisk without first fucking her at least a dozen more times and so he _couldn’t kill her_.  
  
  
  
He started getting desperate texts from Papyrus sometime during their usual breakfast time.  He forced himself to ignore them. They were all asking him about Frisk. She wasn’t answering his knocks. She hadn’t left Sans’ room. And where was Sans. Sans was a terrible brother.

 

 

 

And then it eventually, finally happened. He woke up after having fallen asleep again by Tori’s door.

 

Frisk was moving. She had finally left his room. He could feel her moving out of his house and—

 

Had he been waiting for this to happen, all this time?

 

He felt as though an invisible string connected to his soul and his magic was pulling away from him, tensing and tensing as the kid started walking away from Snowdin and towards Waterfall.  
  
And she might just be heading towards her old hiding spot. She hadn’t been there in months, it probably held so many _nasty memories_ for her. But he _really_ didn’t want to face her right now, he felt so unworthy of her and _so guilty_ , that he was willing to give Frisk the benefit of the doubt until—

 

She moved past her hiding spot and kept going.  
  
He felt a sudden, sharp moment of panic.

 

And he briefly considered just letting the kid die. It would all RESET, anyway. Nothing permanently bad could _really_ happen, if she came across Undyne.  
  
…He couldn’t do it. He knew that in his darkest moments he was _more than capable_ of causing her pain; but somehow, letting _others_ hurt her was…

 

It was different. He left his old Snowdin sentry station.  
  


 

He appeared a few hundred feet ahead of Frisk and waited for her to find him.  
  


 

When she _did_ get close enough to notice him, she looked defeated.

 

Her hair was slightly damp, but they hadn’t reached the rainy part of Waterfell yet. Had she showered? Showered him _off_?  
  
She wasn’t wearing his clothes anymore. He didn’t know why that stung him as much as it did.

 

When she sighed and asked him the question, sounding tired and defeated, he hadn’t expected it. “Are you here to help me get to Asgore?”

 

He had expected a bigger confrontation. He _slowly_ walked toward her and took her hand. She let him. He softly squeezed it, ran his thumb across the soft skin of her hand.

 

And his voice was calm and even when he spoke, but it held in it a hint of a possessive threat that he couldn’t find it in him to repress. “i’m here to either kill any monster that dares touch you or to escort you home.”  
  
She stood _so still_ and then he started walking her back to Snowdin, hand in his. She didn’t fight him. She held onto his hand. And when they got home, it turned out Papyrus had been _so worried_ about Frisk that he’d stayed home (“LIKE SANS ALWAYS DOES WHEN YOU’RE SICK, SINCE HE WASN’T HERE”) and had been looking all over for her once he’d realized Frisk had left San’s room because she’d left his door open.  
  
Papyrus had been so relieved when they came back, he’d hugged Frisk and cried.

 

He slept in his workshop that night because he’d felt _really_ tempted to give Frisk a punishing fuck as a warning.

 

 

 

Frisk stopped talking for a while.

 

Or rather, she’d stopped talking as much as she had before. She was still willing to speak short sentences. Mainly to Papyrus. Although she seemed to be always angry at Papyrus.  
  
Not angry at Sans, for some reason, but of _all_ people— _Papyrus_.  
  
He’d had to correct her tone with him out of Pap’s earshot the few times he’d caught her being almost outright rude, the rare times that she spoke. And in one particularly trying occasion,

(Frisk had rolled her eyes at Papyrus, had heavily hinted that his puzzles weren’t that great and that he’d never make it into the Royal Guard.)

Sans had threatened to take her art supplies away for a week unless she watched her attitude with Papyrus and she had _rolled her eyes at him_ and given him sass—  
(“Like I _care_ , _dad_.”)

 

She had been acting _like a fucking teenager_ , she was _such a fucking spoiled brat_. He couldn’t _believe_ that he loved _such an obvious child_ and—

 

And they had been arguing in the living room while Papyrus was out training with Undyne. He’d pushed her onto the couch and got on top of her, magic flaring, and _growled_

 

“d’you want me to just _fuck you into submission_ , you _fucking brat_?”  
  
Her eyes went wide with fear at that but she knew better at this point than to fight. And he was so angry—he was _so, so angry_ at her for talking back to him and for being so sarcastic with Papyrus—that he _almost did_ fuck her like she _deserved_ to be fucked.

 

 _Almost_.

 

She wouldn’t have survived it if he _had_.

 

 

 

The weirdest part about them was that they still kissed. They still made out.

 

They still cared about each other, even though something between them felt broken now.

 

Their relationship was so— _fucked_. She was acting more and more like a moody teenager and he was _still_ hopelessly attracted to her, he was _still_ in love. And very often, now, while they argued and fought, he’d get turned on and he would—

 

Kiss her. Touch her. Force his hand down her pants even if they hadn’t again fucked because it felt _so good_ to have her give up and let him.  
  
She always kissed him back. Ran her hands under his shirt. Pulled him close to her. And her kisses had gotten angrier, aggressive—

 

Less sweet and less innocent, but he found that he _liked_ less sweet and less innocent.

 

And he often thought that she was doing it with the express purpose of getting him off. More often than not, he would end up conjuring his cock and grinding himself against her with a hand to her throat.  
  
One time, he made the mistake of loosening his grip around her neck and allowing her some air before he’d finished, and he distinctly heard her whisper a childish “I hate you.”  
  
He stopped making out as aggressively with her after _that_.

 

 

 

They still did their usual things together. (Even though, sometimes, he irrationally thought that she _hated_ it.)

 

They still went on hikes, after Frisk insisted enough. They still watched bad television. They still held hands and they kissed, joked around and laughed and napped and were basically inseparable. They still suffered through Pap’s pasta together. Frisk still groaned at Sans’ terrible jokes. And Sans still thought the kid was…

 

Perfect. Beautiful. Amazing.  
  
Frisk still visited Flowey every day and, after a while, she seemed to forgive Papyrus for whatever it was he had done to her and started spending time with him, too.

 

Sans’ relationship with the kid now seemed to have a darker tint to it, but they were still together.

 

And sometimes Sans even wondered if it might really be _that_ bad if they ever had sex again, as long as he made sure that he wasn’t too rough and that Frisk truly enjoyed it.

 

 

 

They were lying in bed, being lazy together, his face against the hollow of the kid’s neck as she absentmindedly ran her fingers through his skull and tried to make sense of his Physics I textbook.  
  
He was feeling _so grateful_ for her right now. Being with her like this was bliss.

 

She sighed. “What am I supposed to be looking at again?”

 

“kinematic equations,” he whispered against her neck. Happy. Adoring. In love. “the equations for an object’s position, velocity and acceleration. first and second derivatives, respectively, but we need to teach you proper algebra before we get into that.”  
  
Another sigh and she whispered. “I hate you.”  
  
He laughed out loud. At least this once, he was sure that she hadn’t meant it. And he kissed her neck and offered, “we don’t _have_ to go over this today. would you rather do something else?”  
  
And she knew exactly what it was he was offering. He conjured his tongue and he licked her neck. And then he pressed himself closer to her—

 

_Hungry. Needy._

 

And suddenly she seemed to have a brilliant idea because she perked up and then she said, “We could make pasta!”

 

“…what?”  
  
Frisk suddenly sat up. “Papyrus is out! Come on! I was thinking I should just go ahead and make some while talking to Papyrus this morning—”  
  
“while you… when did you talk to pap?”  
  
She rolled her eyes at him. “I talk to Papyrus _every_ morning. After I talk to Flowey, while we train. Anyway—”  
  
“while you _what_!?”

 

She rolled her eyes at him again with a bratty sort of exasperation before she finished. “— _Anyway_. Pasta used to be one of my favorite foods back in the surface, and I was thinking Papyrus has sort of ruined that with the way he cooks it, so I thought: I know how to make pasta, why not make some of my own? And—”  
  
“ **kid.** ”

 

“— _And_ it’s the perfect day for it since Papyrus is out and we’re both bored,” she finished stubbornly before asking. “ _What?_ ”

 

“you’re training with my brother? e x p l a i n .”  
  
“He’s been teaching me how to dodge attacks,” she told him with a hint of defiance. “ _I_ asked him to. Can I not do that?”  
  
He suddenly felt anxious. “you could get hurt—”  
  
“I _have_ gotten hurt,” she told him coldly, glaring accusingly at him, and it was clear to him that she _wasn’t talking_ about Paps. “I’ve gotten good at dodging.”

 

Sans covered his face with his hands and groaned. “you’re still mad at me for hurting you.”

 

She tried to deny it. “No, I’m not—”  
  
“ _yes_. you _are_ ,” he told her. “are you still mad that i fucked you, too?”

 

Silence from her. And that had happened more than two months ago. But _still_ —

 

They’d never really talked about it, _they had both been avoiding it_ , and—

 

“I don’t want to talk about that with you.” There it was. She sounded both angry and uncomfortable.

 

“so instead you spar with my brother?” Sans asked her. “do you fight with the flower, too, or do you talk to _it_ about how angry you’re at me?”—and then a sudden thought from the bright space, buried deep under everything else—“who _the fuck_ is asriel?”  
  
“ _Asriel_ is _Flowey_ ,” Frisk spat, defensive. And maybe Sans had overdone it with the suspicion and the jealousy in his voice, because she was suddenly furious. “It’s what—It’s what the bad voice calls Flowey, okay? They wanted you to be jealous. They wanted you to—”

 

Her words died in her throat.

 

He raised a brow bone at her, suddenly interested. “to?”  
  
“To be _a bad monster_ , like you _are_ ”—that _stung_ —“But I didn’t let you.”

 

He felt a part of him break. She didn’t _let_ him? Was _that_ why she’d—

 

Why she’d _let him have his way with her_ and _—_

“Frisk—”  
  
She shook her head. “Look. I love you. Whatever happens or happened, it doesn’t matter. It’s not your fault, right? It’s the LV and the Resets. If anything, it’s _my_ fault, and I’m _really sorry_ …”

 

“kiddo, what? of course it—”

 

She cut him off. “I may not be as smart as you but I’m not _stupid_. You’ve had to kill me so many times to stop me from hurting people. I _know_ your LV is my fault, and the Resets. I’m not _dumb_ , Sans—”  
  
“you’ve been blaming _you_?” he asked, bewildered. “how have we never talked about this?”

 

She shrugged and tried to kiss him. He gently pushed her off.  That was tempting, it was a tempting distraction but—

 

“you need to _talk to me_ ,” he told her. And maybe he was begging; he was _so frustrated_. He sat up in front of her and cupped her cheeks. “kiddo—nothing that i do is your fault. my LV is—that’s my choice, sweetheart, that started way before you—”  
  
He paused to kiss her lips. Just a small peck. She felt nice.

 

He did it again.

 

He slid his tongue out of his mouth and licked her lips and—

 

She didn’t know it, when she parted her lips to let him in, but sometimes she could be _so tempting_ —  
  
“you’d do anything for me, huh?” he whispered. She nodded.

 

And maybe that was what her love was like. Just _completely selfless_ , unlike his.

 

He kissed her one more time and “tell me what’s wrong, frisky.”

 

She froze.

 

He insisted. A tad more desperate. Ran his hand through her hair and tucked some loose strands behind her ear.  “you aren’t exactly happy, are you? you were short with me and papyrus for a long time. is this because of what i did? kid, i love that we’re together, but—”  
  
“Please just stop. I don’t want to talk.”  
  
“but frisky—”  
  
She kissed him.  
  
Moved a hand down to his pants and across his pelvis.  
  
And he was suddenly terrified. He got off the bed.

 

“let’s not do that. you cried, the last time—”

 

“But _you_ liked it.”  
  
And that was as much as he could take.  
  
He disappeared.

 

 

 

He felt utterly ridiculous, buying what was essentially garbage in an alley from a couple of giggling teenage girls. But Bratty and Catty were the best at finding things in the Dumpster, and they always had at least a few art supplies, and Tori had once said that having hobbies would help Frisk if she had depression…

 

He also bought the whole stupid _second season_ of Nectarine Girl for Frisk, when he saw it. And despite the awfulness that was that anime, he couldn’t help but smile a little bit.

 

She would be so happy.

 

 

 

There was something weird going on between Frisk and Papyrus.

 

Another month had passed. He knew, from Frisk, that they were still training together. But now they were also hanging out while Sans was at “work” (sleeping in his workshop), and Paps wasn’t spending as much time with Undyne anymore.

 

He’d tried to ask Paps what had happened that he’d stop training with Undyne, but all he got out of Papyrus was a cryptic “I CAN’T TELL YOU, SANS. IT WOULD RUIN THE SURPRISE.”

 

He couldn’t ask the kid. They didn’t exactly talk when they got the chance to be alone anymore.

 

They kissed. They touched. They _almost fucked_. And she had gotten desperate for every sort of affection he could give her.

 

In hindsight, he should have seen that something bad was coming.  
  
  


They watched the entire second season of Nectarine Girl together. Twice. Then Sans remembered that Alphys had offered him the mangas in another timeline, so he called her and borrowed _that_.  
  
Frisk was so happy at that and kissed him _so hard_ and she—

 

~~He let her get him off with her hands.~~

(And he’d felt so ashamed after that. That hadn’t been why he’d done that for her.)

 

 

  
One day he woke up and realized he had fallen asleep at his workshop again.  
  
He had spent last night avoiding the kid. He had been feeling particularly horny around her and had thought it... _best_ … if they didn’t sleep around each other last night.  
  
He groggily looked over the papers sprawled across the desk he had slept on. Beginner’s algebra. He had been toying with the idea of teaching Frisk.

 

Where _was_ Frisk?  
  
Their connection told him his room.

 

What time was it?  
  
His phone told him 12:38 in the afternoon.  
  
And— _ugh_. It was Sunday. Paps had probably made spaghetti for lunch by now. (Why wasn’t Frisk in the kitchen with him?)  
  
He decided to go check on her first. She might have slept in, like him. Or she could be sick. She could have gotten angry at Papyrus again. (He worried. He often worried.)

 

He teleported to his bedroom.

 

But Frisk… But Frisk wasn’t there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
> 
> [Also, so, like... When you're done reading this, like... Yeah. (If I end up editing some of it, I'll let y'all know, this chapter felt long and confusing for me.)]
> 
> My head hurts. My work is Anxiety. [whispers]Expect crappier writing until this is over.[/whispers] >_>


	34. Chapter 34

He knew too well what he was looking at, the heart-shaped essence floating in the middle of his bed at _precisely_ the spot where he had originally thought he'd find Frisk.

 

A human soul. He had seen far too many of them to know that that was what it was. And this one was red. He'd seen this one before too. Had forcibly taken it out more than once in many timelines.

 

It was Frisk’s. The culmination of her being.

 

This human soul belonged to _Frisk_ and it was currently floating, _frail and unguarded_ , on top of _Sans’ bed_.

 

_It was full to the brim with Determination._ And did she even know what she had _done_?

 

There was a brief moment of stunned silence during which Sans' anxious magic filled the room. And for a split second, he _didn't know_ — didn't _quite know_ where he was or what he was doing. He felt _tricked_ , _betrayed_ —

 

_ Hurt _ .

 

And what was Frisk even trying to achieve by doing this? Was she— was she trying to _run away?_

 

How had she even managed to take her own soul out? She didn't have magic. _How—?_

 

How could _his kid_ —

 

He stumbled out of his room and downstairs, fully expecting to find Frisk sitting on the couch, but found Papyrus instead.  
  
“SANS!” Paps beamed at him. “YOU’RE JUST IN TIME FOR LUNCH. I HOPE YOU’RE HUNGRY, THIS MIGHT BE MY BEST SPAGHETTI YET!”

 

“paps…” Sans found himself asking, “where’s the kid?”  
  
Papyrus’ broad smile  f a l t e r e d .  
  
“THE HUMAN DIDN’T TELL YOU? SHE… SHE LEFT TO SEE UNDYNE THIS MORNING.”

 

Sans froze. “ _w-what_ … _?_ ”  
  
“DON’T WORRY! SHE’S SAFE! IT WAS THE HUMAN’S IDEA TO GO VISIT. SHE THINKS SHE AND UNDYNE COULD BECOME FRIENDS, AS I’VE BEEN SAYING ALL THIS TIME…”

 

An anxious sort of nervousness settled in his chest and—

 

“…AND HER SOUL IS SAFE NO MATTER WHAT! WORRY NOT! I REMOVED IT THIS MORNING WITH HER PERMISSION AND FRISK HID IT. LET’S JUST SAY A… A ‘LITTLE FLOWER’ TOLD US IT WOULD BE THE SAFEST THING TO DO…”

 

Sans stopped listening.

 

A cold chill of fury ran through his bones.

 

How could _Papyrus_ —How _could he have_ —

 

He— He had never before felt— He had never _ever_ before been _tempted_ to _hurt_ —

 

Hurt who? _Papyrus?_ _No, how could he?_ _He was his brother._ _No,_ _not Papyrus_ , _don't hurt Papyrus_ , it wasn’t his brother’s fault, it was _the_ _fucking_ _flower's_ _fault_. It was _the flower's_ and it was _Frisk's_ and _she would more than pay for it when he found her_ , he would make sure that it _fucking hurt_ when he got her back and _forced her to remember just whose she was_ and reminded her that **_he_** _**owned** **her**_ and the RESETs would be _nothing_ , the pain of her deaths would be _nothing_ compared to _what he would fucking do to Frisk_ _when he—_

 

He ran outside to look for her and it was a good thing that Papyrus didn’t follow because he teleported as soon as he was out the door.

 

He looked everywhere he could in Waterfall.

 

And _mad_ , he was _so mad_ —He was blinded by _rage_ and _fury_ and _desperation_ and _worry_ and—

 

_His kid_ was on her own. _His kid_ was _on her own._ She was _just a child_ and she was _alone_ in a _strange place_ and nobody knew her, here, she was potentially surrounded by monsters who might harm her and—

 

And— _God_ , she’d left her soul _in his room_. She’d left her soul for him to guard, _what had she done?_ _How could she trust him with that?_ The _entire reason behind the RESETS_ was now _unguarded in his room_ and he was a _bad_ _monster_ , he was _selfish_ , the _worst_ , he could _absorb_ her soul, _destroy_ it, did Alphys end up keeping Gaster’s DT Extraction machine, Sans could—

 

Somewhere along the line as he searched for her his anger turned into _a frantic, desperate anxiousness_ and—

 

_Frisk would get hurt._ _More RESETs._ And _how could he even worry about the RESETs_ , how could he be _so selfish_ , Frisk was on her way to _killing herself_ , he _couldn’t protect_ _her soul from him_ , he _couldn’t_ , he’d done _so much to her_ and

 

not _this_ , _not this_ , if he hurt her soul _it would be permanent_ , if he took out its dt _it would be permanent_ , _how could she trust him, not even he would trust himself_ , _he loved her so, **so much** but then the RESETS would come and he might—_

 

He was _weak_ , _so weak_ , _just_ **_please_** _, kid, come back_. _He was destructive and he was **a** **danger** and he was—_

He stopped searching for her somewhere along the river.

 

He was… He was _nothing._ He was _selfish_. _Bad_. _Dangerous_. He _needed Frisk_.

 

And it suddenly felt to him that it was back to the _sadness_ , the _loneliness_ , the crushing _emptiness_ and the _anger_ and the _destructiveness_ that had been his life without her. _Again_.

 

_(He needed Frisk to be good. He couldn’t be better if Frisk wasn’t there to remind him to be good. A new timeline would come— Would he forget? Would he be worse? He needed—)_

 

And _why was he even bothering to look for her_. She would always end up dying, in the end. His kid wasn’t especially strong, or _fast_ , or—

 

_Or_ — _or_ _resilient_ —

 

_(He had always had to be careful_

_not to hurt her so much that she died right away_

_hadn’t he, when he felt like having fun with her_

_near the end of the worst timelines)_

There was no point in looking for Frisk when she would inevitably die and come back to him once it all RESET. The monsters out here could be inadvertently dangerous to a human girl like her. He sincerely doubted that the kid would even get to Undyne before somebody else got to her.  And once she RESET—once this timeline ended and the next one brought her back to him—

 

They’d have to _talk_. Why had she left?

 

He’d have to—

 

He hoped for her sake that she hadn’t SAVEd in his proximity again before the world RESET.

 

_(He could be so— So dangerous, to her._

_He didn’t want to be.)_

 

He teleported straight back to his bedroom. (He didn’t want to face Papyrus.)

 

And he—

 

What else was there to _do?_

 

He went to bed and he slept. Feeling hopeless, defeated. _Tired_.

 

Alone.

 

 

 

Days went by and the kid had still somehow survived.

 

He was beginning to lose hope that she had _not_ SAVEd since she had left Snowdin.

And he— He still mostly just slept. It was too much for him to be awake. When he was awake, he just obsessed over the kid’s soul. _(Was it safe? Safe with him? Could he hurt it, could he damage it, could he, would he, it was defenseless, it was the cause of all the…)_

He felt guilty that Papyrus worried about him. _(Paps had knocked on his door more times that he could count, every day, more and more with each passing day and sometimes he begged him to come out, crying, but Sans couldn’t find it in him to care enough to move and instead he just wallowed in guilt.)_

 

He obsessed over the kid, too. Obsessed over her safety or her lack of it and the possibility of multiple RESETs. But that was to be expected.

 

And so he _very strongly_ preferred to just sleep. Just to give up. Just to wait it out, maybe if he waited long enough, everything that was currently wrong in this timeline would get erased.

 

And it certainly didn’t help his current state of catatonia that when he slept, he very often dreamed, and when he dreamed, even if the dreams were often negative, he still dreamed of _her_.

He dreamed that she would kill every monster that she came across, and in the end, Sans would torture her and kill her _over and over_ …

 

He dreamed that she was watching tv with him and Papyrus and suddenly Sans would set Papyrus up for a pun and Frisk would smile and roll her eyes before Papyrus even caught on to the fact that he was being set up for a lame joke.

 

He dreamed that his lips were on hers and his cock was in her and she stifled a little moan in between all her little cries of pain and he would thrust in a little harder, force himself in just a little rougher…

And sometimes the things he dreamed weren’t things that had even happened at all. Brief windows and glimpses of potential timelines. Him choosing to do the right thing, him choosing to do _so much worse_. Younger Frisks, older Frisks, Frisk confessing her feelings for him when she was much older and knew what she was actually doing…

 

When he could guiltlessly _reciprocate_.

And whenever he woke up, he still instinctively reached for her only to find that she wasn’t there.

 

And maybe this was what heartache felt like, when his mind was still numbed by sleep and he moved a hand to reach for Frisk’s soft warmth only to find that her side of the bed was still cold and empty.

 

_Her side of the bed_ was cold and empty. When had that part of his bed become hers?, like they were…

 

He dimly remembered the first time he had invited her here, what felt now like _years_ ago perhaps due to the RESETs. It hadn't been _that_ long ago, time-wise, but their relationship had grown so much since then, as had _she_ , because when they had first slept here in his bed together she had just been—

 

Just a little kid. Just a naïve little child. And he hadn’t been absolutely certain, but she had probably still been just twelve.

 

He felt guilt at the thought of it and guilt at remembering that he had still already given in once and had physically forced himself inside her regardless of how old she had been. Not that she had remembered, back then.

 

But _he_ had still remembered.

 

He had been _so scared_ _and nervous_ , that first night. Worried that he was overstepping more than just the usual boundaries. Worried that the kid might catch on to the fact that he was turned on by her in a way that he _never should have been_. And in reality, looking back, he had been right to worry. He'd known even back then that Frisk had a big crush on him and had known _for certain_ that he _more than liked_ _her_. The risky situation that he had put them both in just so he could have her close had been unnecessarily unsafe for her...

 

He had been _so tempted_ to coerce her into letting his hands roam _further than they should_ , maybe letting things go _much further than they should_ …

 

But nothing terrible had happened that night, other than the fact that he had fallen just a little bit more in love with Frisk.

 

They had ended up staying awake far later than he should have let Frisk stay up, laughing and joking and talking until it was almost dawn. He remembered that Frisk had been especially funny and talkative, still beaming brightly and _beautifully_ over the fact that she would be spending the night with him. And he—he _hadn't deserved_ to be the reason behind her radiant excitement and happiness—

 

There had been _so much about him_ that she hadn’t known then _and was just starting to know now_.

 

But they had ended up talking a lot about her that night. He’d placed his focus firmly on her and had managed to get her to tell him about her hopes and her dreams and her happiest memories. And she had been just a child, had proven to _be far less mature_ than he had first deluded himself into giving her credit for. He wouldn't pretend now that he'd found absolutely _everything_ that Frisk had said, as a twelve year-old girl, to be especially interesting. But in between her laughing boasts that she had beaten Monsterkid that day at a modified version of what she'd called "Extreme Hide and Seek", and her gushing over an anime that had been too juvenile for him and even for Paps to be very into—he searched his mind trying to remember which anime it had been, had she already started her obsession with Sailor Moon or was she still going through her Princess Tutu phase?—, she had displayed just a few glimpses—

 

_Of the kind of woman that Sans couldn’t wait to meet, the kind of person that she was still growing up to be._

 

He’d noticed the sincerity of her warm regard towards Papyrus. Answered her questions about how to go about how to approach Snowdrake, who still got startled into attacking her. Had heard her whispered concern over his kind being trapped underground and her shy and honest confession that she often wished she could help all monsters. Sans had been awed by the kid’s honest displays of kindness and MERCY and the sheer amount of goodness in her that had just left him feeling _so_ —

 

_So unworthy_ of even being in her presence, even though he couldn't bear to do the best thing for her and force himself to walk away.

 

He’d seen _Frisk_. How she was even then and would always be. She was a bright ray of light in his dark, pathetic little world of sin and loneliness and she was _MERCY_ , she was _warmth_ —

 

Frisk was growing up to be _everything he needed_ and _all that he could ever want_ —

 

And he had seen that in her and had been impatient. Desperate to escape his lonely hell of LOVE and RESETs. He had seen the raw potential in her to be _more than a friend_ , and had chosen—

 

He had chosen to take her despite her childishness, her innocence, her shy and lonely, _glaringly obvious_ vulnerability. He had forced her into a physical intimacy that she had been _nowhere near ready to accept_ or _even_ _understand_ and he—

 

He closed his eyes again after visually confirming that Frisk wasn't there. The kid’s soul was still hidden away from his sight and still occupied his empty sock drawer.

 

He tried to _will himself back to sleep_.

 

Maybe he could go back to a nice dream of Frisk.

 

And there was no point now in wallowing in regret. It was too late for them to be anything that lasted. He would have her until she was old enough and wise enough to see just how damaging he was being, and until _then_ —

 

Until then, he’d make the best of their limited time together, once he found her. He was steadily growing lonelier and even more desperate. And he couldn't know _for sure_ than when he had her back, he wouldn't…

 

He wasn’t entirely sure that he could stop himself from taking her as many times as he could once he had her back. To will himself to pretend that she could take what he gave her when he forced them to be together. He never felt quite as close to her as he did when he had her naked beneath him. And maybe it was a forced sort of sadistic intimacy—

 

_(That ended with her sobbing and crying and with him feeling miserable, worthless. And that was the kind of sick act that he had taught her that love was—her spreading her legs for him and letting him do whatever he wanted in exchange for the remorseful affection he gave her afterwards to make sure she knew that he loved her and was sorry...)_

 

—but it was _intimacy_ _nonetheless_ and he was _desperate enough to force it upon her_ if it meant that he could fully have her for even a while.

 

_He_ …

 

_He didn’t often show it right._

_But he loved her._

 

The first RESET came as he was guiltily holding his phone and staring at Alphys’ phone number, trying to talk himself out of asking Alphys if she still had the Determination Extraction machine.

 

_A burst of blinding light and the bright place was too bright_

_and there was a buzzing in his ears and he just barely_

_made out the redhead’s voice saying_

_“he shouldn’t **be** here, Frisk.”_

 

There was a short moment during which he felt it coming, his magic instinctively reaching for the timespace once he realized in that split second that he didn’t know if Papyrus was home. And then came the _piercing, devastating, excruciating pain_. It hurt— _It hurt_ —

 

_Pain pain neve ir-entding and unbearable pain even worse than before and now he was alone and hhis kid wasn’t huere, his kid wars going through the RESET ttoo and his kid had died and **where was Frisk** , he hjad to helup, he hasd to find her she coutldn’t go through this alsone like he had it would_

_hurt her, damage her, t this pain was unbearable_

_found the red soul in his room and he_

_Papyrus essen otially told him he and Frisk had tpeamed up with_

_the flower_

_she was going to Undyne_

_Fris sk had left_

_F orisk was gone_

_he had to **stop** her he ha td to_

_he could stop this all if he just took **the fucking soul** and_

_the kid wasn’t at all saf pe he_

He threw up a thick sludge of blue magic and for a moment, he was unable to breathe and—

 

_Magic pouring out of him_ , his own magic surrounding him, _suffocating him_ , he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t _see_ , couldn’t _hear_ , couldn’t _think_ —

 

This could all finally **stop** if he just  d e s t r o y e d  t h e  s o u l  Frisk had _stupidly left with him_ and—

 

He felt his magic almost burst and his soul move uncomfortably inside his chest once he realized that _she trusted him enough to not hurt the most essential part of her_ and—

 

In between all the pain and the sharp, stabbing, _excruciating_ buzzing of dead timelines living on inside his skull he felt a wave of grief and disappointment.

 

He hadn’t seen her in the bright space.

 

She’d SAVEd after she left.

 

The very real possibility that _he might never get to see her again_ suddenly became something he could no longer choose to ignore.

 

He felt like just _forcing time to stand still forever_ _and_ —

 

And for a while, he did _just that_.

 

He went to sleep once the pain had subsided enough.

 

 

 

He woke up and had no way of telling how long he lasted until the absolute silence became unbearable and time started moving again.

 

 

 

The RESETs became a frequent thing.   
  
He’d _known_ that this would happen. He’d _known_. It was _cruel_ of her to do this to him and it was _brutal_ , it was _heartless_ …

 

It _hurt_.

 

It was driving him insane.

 

He was in a state of constant anxiety. Constantly expecting the tell-tale sign of a RESET. He’d had moments where he was _sure_ that a RESET was incoming, phantom pains and headaches, a persistent paranoia, losing control of his magic…

 

It had been _such a long time_ since the RESETs had last happened as frequently and unexpectedly as _this_ and it felt _too much_ like— Like the constant string of RESETs he’d had to suffer through as he was gathering human souls, over and over, long ago…

 

His mind went to a point where he felt like he was only _just barely_ holding on to whatever shred of sanity he still had and he _almost_ , _almost_ stopped worrying about Frisk.

 

_Almost_.

 

He caught a few glimpses of her in the bright space. Just _a handful_ of glimpses out of the many times he had gone. Blurry sights that oddly felt stolen. And once in a while, _very_ once in a while, he felt like she was talking to him because her soft, soothing voice managed to reach his eardrums despite the now uncomfortable brightness and _loud buzzing_ —

 

(“I’m _so sorry_. I know it must hurt.” “I’ll be more careful.”)

 

(And _sometimes_ , “I love you.”)

 

He didn’t see her until the RESETs started happening frequently enough that he had known _for sure_ that she had come across Undyne.

 

 

 

Finding Undyne was harder than he’d thought. The fish monster was loud and brash, her personality—the complete opposite to Frisk’s more quiet demeanor—making it exceptionally easy to find her if Sans only just _listened_.

 

Unfortunately, his need to listen for Undyne’s voice left Sans with a limited amount of time.

 

The kid would die every five to ten minutes. Sometimes less. Rarely more. It was—

 

It was an _excruciating_ sort of torture. He felt like—

 

_Hurting_ _someone_.

 

The last time the RESETs had happened this frequently, he had been at the Judgment Hall with alternating versions of Frisk and the _not-Frisk_ , taking it out on her, causing her pain—

 

And that made him _very anxious_ , now. He felt barely in control and the RESETs weren’t helping. And he needed to keep Frisk safe—not only from Undyne but also from _him_ self—because please, _please_ —

 

_don’t hurt frisk._

 

_please don’t hurt frisk, he couldn’t hurt frisk, just please, when he found her, just please—_

He hadn’t seen her in _so long_ and he wanted to bring her back and _protect her_ but he—

 

He was hurt and confused and anxious and _angry_ and—

 

 

When he _finally_ saw her again, she still managed to take his breath away.

 

He found her, bloody and sweaty and still somehow _stunningly beautiful_ , running away from Undyne near a bridge that was close to one of his old sentry stations.

 

Undyne was moving a bit slower than she was usually capable of, but was still yelling. “COME… BACK… HERE!!!”

 

And Frisk was—she was _begging_ —“Please _stop_! Just _listen_!”

 

He felt the sudden, irrational need to just appear in front of her and kiss her.

 

And— _Frisk._

 

She hadn’t seen him yet. A glowing spear shot toward the kid and she only _just narrowly_ dodged it. She looked _so tired_ , but was still running, and—

 

“ _Stop_ , Undyne!”—a pause, was she listening to the bad voice?—“You’re overheating!”

 

“I’ll stop when you’re DEAD, punk!”

 

Another spear. Another dodge. And then a string of spears that was too much for Frisk to completely avoid.

 

A pained shriek when one of the spears cut her leg. It left a gash. And Sans suddenly noticed that there were several cuts and bruises on the kid.

 

Undyne was   _k i l l i n g her_.

 

And Sans… j u s t . . .  l   o   s   t    i  t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing iz hard. And I'm exhausted.
> 
> Thank you all for your support! I've been too busy to reply to all your nice comments but I still read and love them all and promise to reply eventually! @_@ <3


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH!!! This chapter was killing me! @_@ Sorry for the long wait. (The last part is unedited; please point out any mistakes and I'll fix them, but guhhh...)
> 
> CREEP IS BEING MADE INTO A COMIC. IT'S AWESOME AND THE ARTIST IS GREAT GO CHECK IT OUT: http://creeptale.tumblr.com/
> 
> And...

Sans had thought it was over as soon as it began. He teleported himself behind Undyne and killed her off with a cluster of bones. Frisk’s loud shriek had somewhat startled him; she sounded both panicked and startled, and the sound had pierced his eardrums, but her subsequent hysterical sobbing had felt even  _worse_...

 

It had done something weird to his chest.

 

But _it was better this way_ , he told himself. He had to stay practical. Detached. (He couldn’t afford  _not_  to be.) His had been a cowardly attack, _he knew_ , but it had been swift and _hopefully_ painless and Undyne had been… She’d been a friend to him and Paps. Sans hadn’t  _wanted_ —

 

He’d never  _wanted_ to hurt Undyne _…_

 

 _Hah_. Quick and painless just like the first soul, but _what for?_

 

He felt covered in a thick layer of anger and resentment. He didn’t particularly like having his hand forced like  _this_. Hated the fact that he’d had to— He hadn’t _wanted_ — Undyne was dead because of the kid’s  _childish_ ,  _naïve_  idealism and he felt _hopeless_ , and _dirty_ , and  _trapped_ , but underneath it all—

 

_Frisk— Frisk was okay, but…_

 

He felt _strangely numb_ and more than a little _horrified_. He’d always assumed killing a fellow monster would feel somehow different than offing a human; had told himself that maybe he  _was_  a murderer but he wouldn’t be as  _wicked_  as to ever kill his own kind and yet  _he’d_ —

 

In the end, he _had_. And despite it all, he’d felt _nothing_.

 

No overwhelming sense of guilt. No remorse, no empathy. Killing a monster hadn’t felt  _at all_  different than killing a human, and  _hah_ …

 

 _Ha ha ha ha ha_ …

 

He was— He was really  _the_   _worst_ , wasn’t he?

 

He felt hollow. Dead. And maybe the hollowness in his chest threatened to expand and consume him but he was  _too_ _miserable to care_. He was  _awful_ ,  _worthless_ … He really,  _really_  wasn’t even halfway a decent person and _still_ …

 

His kiddo was crying.  _Shit_.

 

He forced himself to suppress the wave of self-hatred and misery that threatened to engulf him and made himself focus on Frisk. He hadn’t seen her in  _so long_. She was clearly badly hurt, he couldn't afford to focus on anything but her right now. And he had gotten used to always being with her, had gotten used to being the one responsible of keeping her safe and unharmed and—

 

And she was crying  _so pathetically_  that it almost seemed like she had lost a friend, too. And his figurative heart hardened  _just a little bit_ , because—

 

He’d only done what he’d _had_ to do.

 

Frisk’s hands were free of dust. She was free of dust and free of LV and pure as snow and he’d made  _sure_  of it _at his expense_ , he’d killed  _his fucking friend_  because of her stubbornness, and maybe Frisk just didn’t  _want_  to see—

 

Maybe she just didn't want to see what he’d had to do to keep her as pure as she was, as innocent and bright. His actions were _her_ consequences. And he was always doing the dirty work, wasn’t he—for  _her_ , for Asgore, for Paps. And he’d  _told_  her he’d have to do this if she tried to leave, hadn’t he? He’d  _told her_  and still she’d—

 

She'd chosen to run despite him _begging her not to_ and she could be, in her own goodness,  _so fucking stubborn_. Sometimes, he  _really_ …  _hated_  that about her and…

 

 _no, no, that wasn’t fair._  


He'd known almost from the start that she would be _this_ good. _This_ kind. _This_ MERCYful. Hadn’t he?

 

Wasn’t that what he loved _the most_ about her?

 

Shit, he was _so mad_ but she was— It wasn’t her fault. She was just a kid. She’d grow up, eventually—

 

But right now she was crying and as stupid as the reason was, it was still _his fault_.

 

He teleported himself to kneel right in front of Frisk, looking over all her cuts and bruises, wishing for once that he was as good at healing magic as Paps. “ _kiddo_ ,” he said, forcing himself to sound calm, voice hopefully comforting and soft and gentle. “ _sweetheart_ , are you alright?” 

 

When she shook her head, a certain panic settled deep in his chest.

   

He moved a skeletal hand to wipe away the kid’s tears and he almost didn’t feel the strong current of magic gathering behind him. He’d been too preoccupied with the way the kid flinched at his touch and hiccupped. A twinge of frantic guilt. And he heard the spear coming his way before he saw it, and he was forced to push Fisk to the ground and _dodge_ —dodge whatever that was—

 

 _Undyne_ — _?_

 

He started freaking out. That was _certainly_ new; he _hadn’t_ expected that. Somehow Undyne still stood,  _undying_ , with a face full of determination even as the edges of her skin had started to turn into dust. She was clutching at her dusty chest—full of his bones protruding from her armor—and was evidently forcing herself to continue fighting,  _somehow_.

 

 _Somehow_  but  _how on_   _Earth_ …?

 

He— He _briefly_ and _irrationally_ thought that Frisk really _shouldn’t_ be looking at something like this. It was freaking even _him_ out, and she’d have nightmares—

 

(… _Hah_. _Ha ha ha_ what was he _thinking_? _He’d done the same and worse to Frisk_.)

 

Undyne growled at him, looking  _furious_  as Sans pulled the kid behind him. “ _S-Sans_ , what the _fuck_ …” He should really just teleport them out. This was  _no place_  for Frisk to be, this fight had just turned  _entirely_  unpredictable, but he…

 

“Y-You TRAITOR!”

 

He selfishly thought that it was better to just get this over with while he was still sure that he could and—

 

“Sans _don’t_ ,” he heard Frisk whisper behind him, pleading. Her small hand gently tugging at the back of his coat. “ _Please_  don’t hurt her, Sans. She just thinks I’m a threat. Let me prove her wrong.  _Please_.”

 

The idea was so laughably optimistic that he didn’t even consider it. He summoned four Gaster Blasters as Undyne gathered more of her magic. “just stay out of the way, kid,” he told Frisk, taking her hand as gently as he could and pulling it off of him. “be good and hide, ok? don’t look, cover your ears. i’ll come get you.”

 

And then when she didn’t move and cried out a imploring “ _Don’t_ ,” Sans teleported as far away from her as he could and behind Undyne.

 

The move startled the fish monster. She shot Sans wave after wave of spears and forced Sans to dodge them until Undyne started going after the kid, too.

 

He  _knew_  she should have hidden. He’d  _told_  her to. She was  _so fucking stubborn—_

 

A terrifying moment during which Sans automatically tried to turn the kid’s soul blue and move her with magic before he realized that  _her soul was still out of her and in his room_  and  _that wouldn’t work._ He would have lost her if she hadn’t jumped away on her own with a loud shriek. His soul beat strongly in his chest _and he felt fear_ , _true fear for her_ —

 

 _And anger. So much anger_. _Rage_ building white-hot inside of him and he was angry at Undyne for daring to even try to hurt his kid, angry at  _his kid_   _for letting it fucking happen_   _when_   _he’d told her to hide_  and—

 

He materialized more Gaster Blasters.  “don’t you  **dare**  touch my fucking kid, undyne!”

 

An angry and incredulous scream from Undyne. “ _Your_  kid? Are you  _fucking nuts_? That’s a freaking  _human_ , Sans. If you’re on _their_ side, you’re committing  _treason_ —”

 

And then a fleet of bones and burning plasma and Undyne ducking behind her shield and—

 

The kid started screaming at him. She was crying and begging, “Sans,  _STOP!!!_ ”

 

Spears from Undyne. “ _Don’t!_ Both of you, STOP!”

 

And Sans bitterly thought that she really was  _just a naïve fucking child_  if she thought this could somehow end with MERCY.

 

Undyne seemed to share the same sentiment; she kept sending spears at him even as her arms started to turn into dust from his blasters. Sans dodged (did she  _really_  think he would just stand there and take it?). And after a while, Undyne’s spears started coming out slower and slower. He sent her another wave of bones before he caught her soul with his magic and then dragged her across the ground—

 

Whatever the kid was yelling, he wasn't going to hear it—

 

There came a point when Undyne was more dust than monster and for a short moment, he felt victorious—

 

And then he _almost jumped_ when he felt the aura of a RESET about to start. And everything around him just

 

d i s a p p e a r e d.

 

The world turned  _a blinding white_.

 

And he was in the bright space again.

 

 

 

It felt like an eternity had passed, or maybe time had slowed down to an almost halt.

 

The blinding brightness faded, like scattering fog. The ringing in his eardrums died. And then Sans could finally see his surroundings, and suddenly he strongly wished that it was  _easier to move_.

 

The redhead, Chara, sat there in front of him, just less than three feet away from Sans. They had their chin resting on their hand and were staring into space with an odd expression.

 

They looked like they were deep in thought, yet waiting for something.

 

And _there was no sign of Frisk_.  _He panicked_. “what did you  _do?_ ”

 

Chara looked up, startled, staring at him as though they had just seen him for the first time. They didn’t move away from Sans but didn’t answer him, either, which in his anxious state of mind was  _just as good as a confession_.

 

He began to freak out,  _where was Frisk?_  His magic began to grow erratic. It crackled around him and tinted the whiteness  _blue_  as he  _worried_ ,  _anxious_  and desperate—because _where was his kid, where was her soul_ —

 

_Had he failed had it been absorbed why hadn’t he been more careful it was **his fault** —_

Blueness surrounding him. A sudden look of fear flashed across the redhead's features, and then—

 

"Whoa, calm down! There’s no magic allowed here, Sansy," they said quickly, voice superficially teasing, yet _strongly_ _urgent_. They shot their hands up in a mocking gesture, palms toward him in a sarcastic gesture as if to appease him. Their smile looked taunting, with _a nervousness behind it_ that— "This place is  _delicate_."

 

He didn’t care. " _where’s_   _frisk?_ "

 

The redhead's face changed back to that odd expression. For some reason, their eyes looked—

 

 _Haunted_.

 

As if their mind was remembering something that they didn’t quite want to relive.

 

"She's in  _the bad place_ ," they whispered, an honest, reverent fear in their voice that sent chills down his spine and made him worry for Frisk. "She’ll come out when it’s over, but we have to wait.”

 

And… “she’s in  _what?_ ”

 

Chara shrugged, looking as though they were trying their best to seem unfazed and aloof. Their effort didn’t work. They looked  _vulnerable_  and  _small_  and— “You're not supposed to do a forced Reset”— _childlike_ ,  _so childlike_ ,  _like Frisk looked when she was trying to act older than she was_ —“Our dear  _Frisky_  is finding that out now. When you Reset without dying, it gets  _noticed_." There was a hint of hopelessness in their voice, eerily present despite their superficial taunts and outwardly indifferent attitude. He had never before thought that they’d be capable of sounding so helpless.

 

This was the same human who had often  _laughed as he killed them_  and—

 

It made him feel  _frighteningly worried_  for Frisk.

 

"where is she?" he demanded. "i'm going to her."

 

Chara forced out a laugh. It didn’t sound entirely genuine. It was disturbing. "You can't just  _go_  to the bad place,” they told him. “You get ‘invited’. And _hah_ , no offense—but you're not even supposed to  _be_  here, you’re _just a stupid monster_. You'll never in a  _million years_  get taken to the bad place because you’ll  _never ever_  be able to Reset, no matter how much you’ve tried”—a strange hint of jealousy in their voice—“and it’s not like  _you_  can help her, anyway. You don’t even know what it’s like to be in there. And even if you  _did_ , you’re…"

 

A sudden pause. And then they pulled their knees closer to their chest and hatefully whispered a “You’re  _the worst one_. I keep  _telling_  her, you could never help us. You’d just end up hurting us more. Not like _she_ _cares_ , but _I_ do. _Y-You_ —”

 

A glare from them. They flipped him off. It didn’t seem to have their desired insulting effect with Chara just sitting there, head resting on their knees in a fetal position, arms firmly hugging their knees to their chest.

 

It just looked sad. Pathetic.

 

It was  _so, so similar_  to Frisk’s more childish moments that—

 

_Frisk glaring at him because he hadn’t allowed the hike with Monsterkid. Frisk arguing with him that she wasn’t some kid, when she clearly was. Frisk—_

_Frisk stubbornly fighting him as he forced his mouth on hers—hands up her shirt, pressing his—_

 

It felt wrong, somehow, that _the not-Frisk_ could be so similar to his kid and bring out the petty immaturity in them both that he _often refused to see on Frisk_ because he—

 

He was _so_ — _selfish_ —

 

A flinch from them. Chara bit their lip. And then they asked him, voice hushed into an almost trembling whisper, “Can you feel it?”

 

The random question startled him.

 

“She’s really suffering in there,” they said, an offhanded comment, and—  _what?_

 

Chara noticed his confusion. Their eyebrows furrowed with a seeming disapproval. "You can tell, can’t you? You’re connected to our souls, too. You've been here before."

 

_What?_

 

A pause from them and then suddenly, they just looked  _lonely_. Just as hopeless as Sans felt. And when they spoke, their voice was flat. “You  _can’t_  tell. You don’t remember. Well, I guess it doesn’t matter.”  
  
He was about to ask them what they meant when suddenly Chara glared at him. They looked angry, _disappointed_. “You know, I  _really_  can’t see what Frisk sees in you.”

 

It felt like a fight. Sans retaliated. “she calls you the bad voice.”  
  
A _bitter laugh_. “ _Ha!_ You think I’m still ‘the _bad_ voice’? Not  _anymore_ , Sansy, you took care of _that_. Didn’t you know, after you had sex with her and  _you left us_ , I was the only one she had left? _She asked me how to kill herself_.”  
  
A chill down his spine. His sins on his back. And Chara seemed to  _notice_ , because their laugh started to become more cruel and genuine. They stood up to face him. “She _hated_ that she slept with you. We _both_ did. But you’ll always use her, won’t you—You _sick freak?_ Well. Lucky for Frisk that _I_ was there, or there would have been a few more Resets. You _didn’t even notice she cuts herself_.”— _what?_ —“You don’t even care. I _told_ her you don’t care and still she’s in the bad place because she wanted to Save _you_ and, really—”

 

An indignant sniffle. They looked as if they were about to cry because of how _angry_ they were. And he just wanted them to shut up, he wanted the world to RESET—he was—  
  
Hate and anger  written all over their face. “ _I’m_ ‘the bad voice’? I’m not  _at all_  worse than you are. We’re both willing to kill monsters, but at least  _I_  don’t make her feel  _gross_. Having  _you_  inside  _us_  feels  _disgusting_ _!_ I hope she _never_ lets you do that to her again. She only did it to make you happy, _she doesn’t want you_ , why would you make her fuck you—”  
  
And Sans didn’t even know what to say,  
  
His soul  _hurt_. He wished he was dead.  
  
_frisky_ …  
  
Chara pushed him. They were yelling now, voice full of hate, and suddenly he realized how much Frisk had been holding them back because—

 

Red surrounding them. Was that their soul or their Determination?

 

“Leave us _alone!_ You’re _sick, sick, sick_ —I hope _she hates you_ —”

 

He pushed them off of him and was surprised by how easy it was when they hadn’t put a knife through Paps’ neck—And everything went red—  
  
He was disturbed to feel the beginning of _a bad RESET_ —

 

There was a sudden flash of—a feeling of— _something_ —

 

It felt _overwhelmingly like_ _MERCY_ —

 

And the very last thing he saw was _Frisk_.  
  
  
  
He was aware of the incoming RESET before it happened. He shot a by now instinctive wave of magic to the fourth dimension.

 

Time stopped.

 

And then the pain came and it was  _unbearable_. He was in hell. He got through it…

 

He left his room and _looked for her_.  
  
He found the kid in Waterfall, hiding from Undyne. And it was either Chara or it was Frisk this time. It could be either of them. He was _so nervous_.

 

He didn’t _want_ another RESET. He didn’t _want_ another death in his hands.

But still _he’d do what he had to_ and his hand on her wrist. His magic enveloped her. He pulled her out of time’s influence.

And there was a brief, _terrifying_ moment when she saw him and blinked, confusion and a hint of fear written all over the kid’s face once she saw him.

 

 _It was Chara or Frisk. Chara or Frisk. Kill off or protect, which one would it be—_  


And then she s c r e a m e d .  
  
For a split second, he was afraid that she was screaming because of him. He felt _worse_ after that when she started crying—her hands shooting up to clutch at her head—

 

 He caught her just before she fell down and _shit_ , _shit_ , _a bad RESET_ —

 

She hugged him. A wave of relief. It was Frisk. He hugged her back and held on firmly to her.

 

And he felt _frantic_ and _useless_ and _miserable_ as she cried into his chest and trembled and _screamed_ and—

  
There was nothing he could do. He felt sick. Not her. He could go through the RESETs, but _not her_ —

 

 _please_.

 

He brushed the hair out of her face. "hey, kiddo," he whispered, voice feather-light and soothing as he kept his fear and hopelessness out of it. Ran his fingers down to her cheeks and to her chin. A sob from her as she clung to the front of his shirt and whispered a frantic " _Sorry. Sorry.Sorry.._.". And he kissed the top of her head. He let her cry and do whatever she needed to do. And when her sobs only became louder and worse, he had an idea and said " _shhh_ ,

 

"it’ll be alright, frisk. let's go home."

 

And suddenly a desperate wail from her—“ _NO!_ ”—She tried to push him away and he had to _hold her back_ with his arms tightly around her waist.

 

The kid struggled against him. "I _can't_ ," she told him, desperate and frantic. " _Don't_. Don't try to make me. _Please_. _Please_."

 

He held her closer to him the more she tried to push. And several tempting options danced around his head—

 

_Make her anyway. Force her back. She'd have no choice. She'd stop fighting eventually._

She only did it to make you happy, 

_ she doesn’t want you _ , 

why would you make her—

 

 _Guilt guilt guilt_ and _self-hatred_ _self-disgust_ _and_ _contempt he was sick sick shouldn’t have didn’t deserve anything he was bad evil wicked sin and pain and_

He let go of her as if she’d burned him. “sorry.”

 

A half-hearted _shove_ from her and a miserable “I _hate_ you.”

 

And that _hurt_. It _really hurt_. He—

 

He pleaded. “ _sweetie_ —

 

“you don’t mean that, do you? please? i love you.”

 

And maybe he was just projecting his feelings on her but she suddenly looked _absolutely miserable_.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said, burying her face against his shirt. He hugged her. She let him. And—

 

“I’m sorry. I don’t hate you. I just— I need to leave.”

 

He felt desperate. It was like his soul was being torn in half and “i can’t let you. please? you’ll get _hurt_ , i don’t want—it’ll only get _worse_ , frisky. just stay with me; i’ll make you happy, _i_ _promise_ , i’ll keep you safe, just please—”

 

 _please please please_ —

 

And when she didn’t say anything, he kissed her. Just once. Twice. And initially he hadn’t meant anything by it. Just a few very brief, light kisses to show her that he—

 

He loved her. He cared.

You don’t care.

He cared _so, so much_ about her and—

 

When she didn’t kiss back, he became more insistent.

 

 _Desperate_. _Needy_. Just _please_ —

 

A hand on her hair. His tongue in her mouth. And they could— _they could have sex_ —she’d _like it_ —he’d _show_ her she could—he’d be good, he’d be better, it couldn’t be _that_ bad to be with him, she’d grow to like it, she could be happy with him if he just—

 

_just come back frisky please—_

 

She placed a hand on his chest and she very gently pushed him off and she—

 

She looked _so full of MERCY_ and _Determined_ and—

 

“I’ll come back.”

 

It sounded like a promise.

 

But—

 

“You have my Soul. I’ll come back. But this is something I have to do.”  
  
But _was she hearing herself?_ That made no sense, to break the barrier, she’d have to—

 

“frisky,” he pleaded, pulling her close, hoping to talk some sense into her. She could be _so Determined_ to see the best in everyone but this was— “that’s not how it works. asgore will want your soul. i can’t let you—you’ll stop existing—i love you, so please—

 

“frisky, i’ll be good—we’ll be happy. i’ll make you happy. please?”

 

And when he tried to bury his face against her neck, she kissed his cheek. Wrap her arms around him in a way that was _so warm and soothing_ and—

 

He’d _miss this_. He’d _miss her_. He _couldn’t_.

 

“I’ll come back,” she told him, so sure of herself and reassuring that he _almost believed her_. “You have my Soul. Keep it. I’ll come back.

 

“I think I… I think I’ve done this before. Somewhere else. Not here. Just trust me.”

 

 _Pain_ and _anguish_ and _misery_ and “you’re _just a kid_ , sweetie.”

 

She couldn’t stay out here alone.

 

She took one of his hands in both of hers. She was so fragile, so delicate. Undyne would kill her over and over and if she got to Asgore, it would be worse—

 

She didn’t even know that he was supposed to be the one to kill her and—

 

“Do you want to come with me?”

 

He looked at her. Disbelief and—

 

Hadn’t she gone _through all this trouble just to be away from him_ and—

 

“We can—” she looked _sick_ , _anxious_ —

 

She only did it to make you happy, 

_ she doesn’t want you _ , 

 

“We can stay together,” _miserable_ , _hopeless_ ,

 

Leave us _alone!_

 

“Just let me keep going, let me make it to Asgore,” _depressed_ , _unhappy_ ,

 

You’re _sick, sick, sick, I hope she hates_ you—

 

“If this doesn’t work the way I think it will, we can Reset,” _Defeated_. _So defeated._

_“_ I’ll do whatever you want.” _So, so defeated and sad and_

 

And a _desperate_ , _pathetic_ _part of him_ told him that this was _all that he could have_ and this was as willing as she was going to get.

 

He felt _worthless_. _Miserable_.

 

And his mouth on hers in a hungry kiss that left it _very clear_ what exactly it was that he wanted in return and—

 

_Her, her, just all of her, he wanted **her**_

_(and don’t fight it.)_

  
  
And maybe it was sick, and pathetic, and unhealthy, to be taking Frisk in exchange for something—

 

( _For what?_ _Letting her go to Asgore?_ That was _a cheap price to pay_ , and _he knew it_ —Did _she?_ )

 

But he— He guessed that didn’t matter—

 

(She was _so warm_ , _so soft_ and _felt so good_ and _he loved her_ and _he needed her_  and he—)

 

He felt like _the lowest of the low_ and _like_ _sin_ and _like scum_ but he still took her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Oh my gosh. I don't know if it's because life is very stressful for me right now or, uh, what, but this chapter was a pain to write. Frisk dead-set on going to Asgore. Sans DETERMINED to not let her. And, in the end, I let Chara have a bit too much of their way. @_@ Guhhhh. I hope all that all made sense.
> 
> AND THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR LOVELY COMMENTS I'VE BEEN TRASH AND READING WITHOUT ANSWERING BUT THANK YOU THANK YOU You've all been so nice! T_T


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, oh my Goood. It was insane to write. Sorry for the wait!

A long,  _long_  time ago, before the first human fell, monsters trapped Underground lived their lives a little differently.

 

Then the first human fell down. The royal family adopted them. And Sans—Sans didn't exactly remember much about the first human, or the royal family, before the kids died and the queen left— 

 

_So many timelines_  had passed since then and  _so many RESETs._  And he barely even remembered that they had existed. If it weren’t for the other monsters, he probably wouldn’t even remember _that_. But Sans  _did_  remember—

 

His times spent with Papyrus were some of his most reliable memories. His brother meant the world to him; Sans would never allow himself to forget Paps. And there was a particular bedtime story that Papyrus had once liked—a story that Papyrus  _still_  liked—about a monster prince and a monster princess of no particular importance—

 

Sans had read Papyrus that story more times than he could _count_. It was engraved in his brain.

 

And Monsters did things...  _Differently_ , before the first human fell. But after the first human fell, things changed, and the library changed Pap’s favorite story.

 

Many things changed Underground. When the king and queen adopted the first human child, they declared that Monsterkind would do certain things differently. Human customs were introduced, for the human's sake and benefit. Customs such as Christmas and electricity and television and—

 

And marriage.

 

And so the Prince Monster and the Princess Monster ended up getting married at the end of Pap’s favorite story. Sans remembered it took him quite a long time to get Papyrus used to the new ending. Little Paps had been particularly enamored with the idea of—

 

Of soul bonding. Of what Monsters did before Asgore decreed that they would instead adopt the concept of marriage.

 

And it was disturbing to Sans, now, that he would be thinking about this. He was  _clearly some level of fucked up in the head_ , that Sans would be thinking about Pap’s silly bedtime stories  _now_ —

 

_Now_  that he had Frisk held firmly against his chest.  _Now_  that he had his hungry tongue in her mouth, his needy hands up her shirt—

 

He had  _never once_  told Frisk a bedtime story. Had he dropped the ball, there?

 

Should he have tried to be a better dad to Frisk while she had been—

 

While she’d been so small. While he _hadn’t_ been attracted to her, because of course he had not. Hadn’t he? Should he have tried?

 

She had been  _so alone_  and  _so tiny_   _and vulnerable_  and— "i love you."

 

There were  _so many things_  that he hadn't done right.

 

"you love me too, kiddo. right?"

 

(She nodded.)

 

And he had  _so many regrets_  when it came to Frisk and there were  _so many things_  that he hadn't done right.

 

“do you still want— i  _really want_  to just be with you. do you?”

 

_So many_  big things and little things that he had failed Frisk in. He’d failed as a guardian, as a friend… And maybe the problem was that  _he hadn’t even tried_. Maybe the problem was that he was _weak_ , and _pathetic_ , and—

 

("I… I don't know," she told him, and he should have been glad that she had at least been honest with him, but instead the answer  _stung_.)

 

And _miserable_ and _terrible_ and he’d failed her completely and painfully but

 

But  _if he had her forever_ ,  _until the day that she died_ —

 

" we can still be together, right?"

 

If he owned  _her entire being_ ,  _possessed her completely_ — If he took her  _for good_  and betrayed her like  _that_  in a way that left her  _completely tied to him_ —

 

(She stared down at his shirt for what felt like  _a long time_  as he moved his fingers up and down her arms, her waist, her abdomen… He kissed her neck. He  _wanted her_. He…)

 

—Maybe, with time, he could make it up to her.

 

And wouldn’t they have time, if they bonded?

 

What a  _ridiculous and selfish thing_  to be thinking of now. His soul wasn’t even fit to be next to hers…

 

But she  _really didn't have to find out_  if they bonded and, in the end, Frisk was  _just_  a child. She  _wouldn't know_ , or much less  _understand_ —

 

The magnitude of what he would have done, if he were to try and do it behind her back.

 

For all he knew, she might not even be able to tell anything was amiss. The bond would be _painless_. _So_  easy.  _So_  quick. She could be  _his,_ no matter what happened between them. And so when she looked  _so resigned_  and she  _shyly nodded_ —

 

"Whatever you want."  _Whatever he wanted_. And he wanted  _her_  and  _only her_  and  _only_ —

 

Only _them_ and _only forever_ and he—

 

He felt  _weaker than ever. So low. So disgusting._  And he made the choice for them _both_.

 

(He would have _never_ had the courage to ask her.)

 

He brought his mouth to her lips. Gave her another hungry kiss. And he made it  _quite clear_  what it was he was wanting, with his hands under her shirt and his cock under his shorts pressed  _firmly against her_. It wasn’t just her soul. He wanted _everything_. And, "let's go back to my room, kiddo. i'll bring you back here after we're done."

 

She didn’t protest. He teleported them.

 

And maybe he would never get to have  _Frisk in a wedding dress_ —

 

Frisk in a white dress smiling at him. Frisk being walked toward him by a beaming and proud Papyrus. (And  _his_   _soul hurt_  and  _he felt like_   _garbage_  at the _mere_   _thought_  of  _a proud Papyrus.)_

 

And maybe they wouldn't get to have anything that would make either of them even remotely happy—

 

Maybe happiness just wasn’t for them.

 

But  _if they had each other_ , what did that matter?

 

And so he made it so that Frisk was lying on his bed. He was on top of her again, like  _the first time_ —

 

( _Just_ like the first time when she had been  _so young_  and full of an innocent little crush for him and he had been  _so hungry for her_  and _impatient_ and _hurt her_  when she had been  _just this sweet, trusting child_  and he—)

 

He kissed the top of her head. Ignored the heaviness deep in his chest. And he forced his breats to remain even and steady, even though he wasn’t feeling steady at all, and maybe he just— She was  _just fourteen_ , she was  _just a kid_. Of  _course_  she wouldn’t want him, she  _couldn’t_. But maybe when she was older—

 

Maybe he just had to wait—

 

She might learn to want him; he could teach her to want him—

 

She might  _at least_  forgive him—

 

She could  _at least_  enjoy sex with him—

 

And he was only showing her he loved her the only way he knew.

 

He stared at her and couldn’t help to feel mesmerized. Warm eyes. Kind soul. She was everything he wasn’t, every single thing he didn’t have. And when he spoke, his voice was slightly shaking. He tried to steady it. But " _frisky, sweetheart_ —”

 

_his kiddo—his heart—_

 

“it would  _really_ mean a lot— if you let me put your soul back in your chest before i fucked you."

 

And of course she slowly nodded, she would do anything for him. He  _felt like garbage_ , _so worthless_. He’d stoop  _so low_ — and now it was he who couldn’t look at her.

 

“Okay.”

 

He summoned her soul,  _even redder than blood,_  with his magic. Encased it in his cerulean blue feeling _more than a_   _hint_  of possessive longing. And he  _very briefly_  and  _almost casually_  held her soul against his chest and close to his own before he put it back in her. His magic lingered—

 

And "do you think, kiddo… if you’re  _so sure_  that the barrier will break without using it, do you think your soul could be mine?"

 

Her face paled at that. She looked almost scared. And it was a _very greedy_ request; she probably hadn’t expected it. But  _he hoped against hope_  that in her innocence she’d think he meant it figuratively. And she had  _promised_ —she was  _so desperate_  to make it to Asgore that  _she had promised_ —and so  _her sweet voice_  spoke the loveliest words he would  _ever hear_  when she said,

 

"If you want it." And that was as good as _intent_ , on her part.

 

He kissed her  _everywhere_. A mix of victory and  _guilt_. And, " _sweetie_ , that is  _amazing_. my soul is yours, too. i’m  _yours_ , sweetheart." And that was _definitely intent_ , on his.

 

She looked at him with  _such an innocent expression_.

 

And  _a long time ago_  the King and Queen were the first monsters who got married—

 

(A spark of cyan magic wedged  _deep_  into the red. He pushed her soul back into her chest and she gasped. And _was that it_? Was it _done_? He didn’t feel anything different. He felt a flash of disappointment. And maybe it was that she didn't have magic to reciprocate, and maybe it was just that their souls were incompatible.

 

It stung either way that she couldn’t be _his_ the way he had wanted.)

 

—and many bonded pairs followed. Many weddings were had. But maybe a wedding or _even a bond_ weren’t things that were meant for them.

  
He felt— _Just completely disappointed_.

 

But he paused and he looked at her, and she looked as pretty as the stars. Her eyes were so wide and beautiful and full of compassion, and MERCY, and she was _so sweet_. She was _so kind_. He couldn't help but feel head over heels in love.

 

And _she_ was _enough_.

 

As long as they were together, what did a bond or marriage or any of that matter?

 

_As long as he had her_ , why should he care?

 

He tried to ignore  _the sharp pang of his guilt_. Maybe  _she_  would have cared, if he’d told her. But it  _didn’t matter_ —

 

It couldn't be  _done_  either way.

 

And there were other ways that he could have her…

 

He adjusted himself on top of her and he slowly removed her shirt. Her pants. Her underwear…

 

He forced himself to notice the faint lines down her thighs, her wrists. Barely acknowledged before in his rush to take her and  _glaringly obvious_  now,  _how_  had he missed them? And he— He  _failed her completely_ , he  _looked away from them_ —

 

_pretended not to see them_  and  _sorry,_   _so sorry_   _he was a coward he_   _couldn't deal with all he'd done to her_  and maybe she was  _really alone when she was with him_ —

 

He pulled his cock out of his shorts instead of helping her.

 

(He was  _such a coward, such a fucking coward_ ,  _so_   _inadequate_  and  _gross_  and  _undeserving_.)

 

And he just—

 

_ She doesn't want you. _

 

 

He pressed the tip of his cock against her and it was practicality over pride at this point. He bit her neck.  _Hard_. Marked her with his teeth, _at least_ that was _something_. She  _screamed_ —

 

His hand over her mouth.

 

And then she choked back—

 

—just  _the tiniest,_ most _pathetic_  of sobs and her eyes were shut and  _she was bracing herself_ —

 

_She was really, really dreading this._

 

And why bother to try and fail to make this feel good for her at this point, when she  _very, very clearly_   _didn’t want him_ inside _her._

 

He felt  _so low_.

 

So “ _sorry_.

 

"i’m  _really sorry_. you’re being _so good_ letting me do this, kiddo. shhh. i love you—”

 

His hand went to hers. He guided it to his cock. “i  _really_  love you, _so_ much,  i want you, you’re  _beautiful_ —”

 

His other hand prodding apart her thighs and another  _quiet little sob_  from her and,

 

He had her guide him into her entrance _like the first time_ and "sweetheart, you’re _so good_ , could you  _please_ —

 

A  _selfish request_. "do you think you could— could you tell me you want it?"

 

" _Sans_ …" The misery in her voice was  _torture_. He didn’t push himself in just yet.  

 

A kiss on her neck. He felt heavy with lust. And he  _insisted_ , "could you just  _pretend_. just  _make me believe it_. please? i—i’d really like to hear that from you, frisky.  _please?_ "

 

Her hands holding onto his shirt. She tried to hide her face against his chest and he didn’t let her. She desperately told him, "Sans, I still love you."

 

And he bucked against her just  _a little bit_. "that's not the same, kiddo. just tell me you want this."

 

"I  _can't_ —” sounding frantic, now.

 

"It's  _scary_.” Desperate and anxious. “It's  _gonna hurt_.”  _Afraid_. “I  _don't want_ —"

 

" _shhh_ ,” he—

 

_silenced her—don’t listen—just ignore it—that hurt—_

 

And he  _started to ease himself in_.

 

(She didn't want this. He had expected that. But it  _still_   _hurt_  and it  _still stung_  and he was just—

 

He was just  _so goddamn pathetic_ and  _miserable_ and _hurt_.)

 

And  _maybe_ , with  _time_ , she'd learn to want him. ( _Please?_ )

 

And he'd already failed her on literally _everything else_  but—

 

He buried himself in. He started off  _slowly_. And as he gently thrust himself in and out, feeling  _insanely aroused_  by her warmth, hating how  _disgustingly good he still felt_  as she  _winced_  and  _kept still_ , choking away _remorse_  in a knot of self-hate, he thought—

 

She was  _so sweet_  and  _so pretty_  and as he took his pleasure from her, he kissed her more than once.

 

“i love you,” he whispered, pulling himself away only to lean into her again. He  _loved_  the way she tasted.  _So_ warm and  _so_  innocent and yet  _alluringly_  inviting,  _deliriously_  good. She tasted like what he imagined it would feel like to have absolution—

 

(If absolution came with the aftertaste of a bitter remorse, with guilt and with  _sin_  and with undeserved MERCY at the price of betrayal and a child’s stolen innocence.)

 

And maybe it just hurt that he could have it in himself to  _stoop_   _so low_  in his desperate attempt to have her.

 

Maybe what really hurt wasn’t that he was  _doing this to her_  but rather the harsh truth that he was  _completely undeserving_ of it. He wouldn’t deserve her in a million years, not even if she wanted him. And the problem was  _him_ , it had  _always been him_ —

 

It was  _him_  and his  _love_  and  _the thick undercurrent_ of _lust_ , and of _selfishness_ , and of _his greedy desperation_  that marred the  _tiny_ ,  _pathetic_  splinter of affection he felt for herdeep within his chest _._ He hated that his love felt  _so small_   _and so pathetic_  compared to the enormity and selfless purity of  _hers_  and hated how he could feel  _so insignificant_ ,  _so downright putrid and inadequate_ as he tried to reciprocate her love with his—marring her  _like this_  with a love that barely even resembled love and yet it was  _all he had left to give_  and  _he couldn’t even find it in him to stop_ —

 

He hated it,  _he hated it..._

But  _the more_ he hated,  _the more he took_ and—

When she started hesitantly kissing him back, kisses  _soft_  and  _sweet_  and full of an assuaging sort of affection against the greedy roughness of his magic, it took him by  _complete surprise_  and he felt  _worthless_.

 

“ _frisky_ —” he paused on top of her, and he didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t match that sort of affection if that’s what she was wanting—

 

She didn’t seem to expect him to. “You look  _so sad_.” And there was worry in her voice and there was  _pity_  and  _MERCY_  and—

 

And—

 

She was  _so good_  and  _so selfless_  that it _broke his heart_. It  _hurt_ —

 

He buried his face against her neck with shame and started thrusting  _harder_  into her.

 

A she gave out a startled cry as he  _slammed his length in_. Shoving himself into her,  _pounding_  her,  _hurting her_ —

 

Taking out all of his self-hate and his frustration and his inadequacy on _her_ and  _his sin felt like betrayal_  and he just wanted her to hurt until he stopped—

 

And this was just yet another proof that he wasn’t good enough for Frisk. He _really_ wasn’t good. He wasn’t even  _remotely good enough_  and if the kid kept insisting on refusing to see _just how badly she was mistaken about him_ he was going to show her just what a  _mistake it was to love him_  and it was  _too late_ —

 

It was _too late for her anyway_ because she was  _his_ no matter what. No matter what it took. No matter how incompatible. And even without a bond to tie him to her, he was _always_ going to be  _hers_.

 

He licked her neck, lapping at  _his mark_  on  _her_ skin. Brought his mouth to her ear and _growled with thick lust_. And he held her _still_ and _in place_ as he fucked her—

 

_Fucked her hard_.

  

Slamming into her and hurting her until _she started_   _crying_ and—

 

“you’re  **mine** ,” he told her,  _over and over_  as he  _stabbed her with his cock_  and she— She knew better than to beg him to stop at this point. She knew that turned him on. He’d gotten  _so close_  to killing her before when she had begged for MERCY and—

 

He already  _had_  killed her before and ended so many timelines—

 

And so after a while she  _just gave up_ and _just let him_  and cried _quietly_ as  _he slammed himself into her_  and he—

 

His hand to her throat. His voice deep, menacing. “ **tell me you want this**.”

 

Her answer was cold and mechanical. “I want this.”

 

And that  _wasn’t enough_ , he  _needed_  more. He  _wanted her to mean it_  but—

Just making her say it felt good. Just forcing her under him felt wonderful. And so he kept going, “ **beg me for more, kid**.”

 

A flash of something in her. It looked disturbingly like anger. And when she spoke, the tone was  _cutting and sarcastic_ , it didn’t suit her at all. And she said, “ _Please_ , I guess.”

 

It was so unexpected that he  _stopped_ halfway inside her.

 

That… That  _stung_.

 

And he suddenly found himself just—

 

“ _sorry_.”

 

He felt _so small_ , _so worthless_. Just  _completely undesirable_ and—

 

“ _sorry, frisk._ ”

 

She seemed to regret snapping at him pretty much immediately. Let out a heavy sigh. Gave him a look that implied a _resigned_ sort of forgiveness. And he couldn’t help but notice how stiff and  _forced_  she felt as she wrapped her arms around him, let him bury his head against her neck. And “No. I’m sorry. It’s—It’s okay.”

 

And  _no, no it wasn’t_ —

 

“sweetheart—”

 

He  _couldn’t do it_. He couldn't keep going. He _wanted_ to but…

 

He pulled out of her. “sorry.”

 

And he would have rolled off of her too but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her embrace.

 

How twisted was _that?_

She was comforting him.

 

And he let her move her hands down his skull and across his back and maybe he should _just fall asleep_. They had all the time in the world now that he had stopped it. And he’d have to bring her back to Undyne eventually, but—

 

“I feel _so tired_."

 

Had she read his mind? This was perfect, they could—

 

“And it doesn’t feel like _me_.”

 

…frisk?  


And for what felt like the longest moment, he felt like time had stopped even for them. The significance of that statement sent alarm bells through his head. And—

 

"what—what d'you mean, sweetie?"

 

“I feel tired but I _don’t_. Chara is freaking out. And something weird feels different. Did you… Did you do something?”

 

Disbelief mixed with victory and guilt.

 

He didn’t feel anything…

 

"kiddo, i don't know what you're talking about," and that was a bold-faced lie. _He_ was tired. _He_ was what was different. This was a bond. _Her_ bond. He hadn’t bonded, but _she_ had—

 

The weight of responsibility for a partial bond that he couldn’t feel and he was afraid and excited and simply awed and _victorious_ and—

 

“Are—Are you _lying?_ ” She tried to push him off. “You’re _lying!_ ” It didn’t work. “Oh my _God_! What did you _do_? _Sans!_ ” And now kicking and shoving and—

 

He took her wrists and pinned her to the bed. Bit her earlobe, kissed her neck. And— “i didn’t do anything. sweetheart, are you listening to the bad voice?”

 

She stopped.

 

“maybe you’ve just been without your soul too long,” he told her. He was _a filthy liar_ but she didn’t _have_ to know—

 

He felt so— _So_ _in love_ _with her_ and _triumphant_. This felt far _better_ than when he finally got her to stay away from Monsterkid—

 

And when she looked like she was second-guessing herself, he suggested, “maybe you really _are_ tired. Sweetie, how about you spend the night here? i'll take you to back in the morning."

 

She got anxious. "I _can’t_. Undyne's looking for me—"

 

And he _laughed_. Did she _really_ think that was a problem? "you'll always find her in the same spot," he told her, waving off her concern as he brushed the hair out of her face before rolling off of her. "don't worry about it. they're all _so predictable_ , kid." He kissed her cheek. And she was still _so naïve_. He pulled her close and she barely resisted.

 

"it doesn't really matter what you do or when you do it. you'll see. we’re the only ones who’ll ever change, kiddo.”

 

She looked like she was about to argue with him but held back. He made sure to cover her with his blanket. And he summoned her phone out of her shorts on the floor with magic, and "wanna see a neat trick? check the time."

 

She gave him a look that made him suspect that she wasn’t arguing because she was listening to Chara but she still reluctantly opened her phone and he ignored it. The display still said it was eight thirty-two at night, the time she had SAVEd. Papyrus had probably already gone to bed. He had stopped knocking on Sans’ door asking for a bedtime story.

 

And Undyne was probably still looking for her. Frozen in time, he wished he could keep them like that forever. Make it so that it was just him and Frisk, and sometimes Paps. Make it so that there were no more RESETs. Erase the possibility of more repeats, delete the constant reminders that the two of them were completely isolated. But still, he snapped his fingers—

 

His magic left the timespace. He regained the sense of normalcy that he hadn’t quite known he’d lost. A few seconds passed…

 

And it felt _so right_ , to share his bed again with Frisk. It felt _so good_ , to know she had bonded with him. And she was _so quiet_ against him, probably lost in her head and trying to figure out just what exactly it was that felt so different for her…

 

_Him_. It was _him_. _His_ magic blended into _her_ soul. And he felt _possessively victorious_ and he’d _never, ever tell_ …

 

He kissed her cheek and _he loved her._ He wondered if she could feel just how much he did.

 

A rush of affection. A slight pink on her cheeks.

 

He felt a _guilty_ sort of _happy_.

 

And suddenly it was eight thirty-three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Part of this chapter should have really been written in Chara's POV because they are the only one who is freaking the fuck out.
> 
>  
> 
> Talk to me on Tumblr! kenyaketchup.tumblr.com  
> Be awed by the awesomeness that is gcq's comic version of Creep! creeptale.tumblr.com


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead. 
> 
> Come obsess with me over Undertale on Tumblr: kenyaketchup.tumblr.com

He dreamt of the warm, sticky wetness of blood on his fingers.

 

Of blood covering his entire body, dampening his shirt and his coat with a dark red color. The coppery scent filled his nose cavity, and he heard crying...

 

The soft, almost inaudible cry of a girl somehow reverberated so loud inside his skull that the sound pierced his ear drums.

 

Sans thought, for a moment, that he was just reliving the memory of a past timeline. That he was reliving the feel of human blood on his bones, coating him in a red layer of regret and of sin, and he—

 

The loud echoes of screams and of empty threats and of pained cries and of  _begging_  were strangely absent in this memory. The cries hurt his soul. And this wasn’t a memory.

 

And then his surroundings somehow materialized themselves in front of him, and he wasn't at the hall—

 

He wasn't anywhere where he had… Where he had tortured…

 

He was in his bedroom. And he had killed Frisk in here before, but save for  _that once_ , he hadn’t really—

 

He froze dead in his track when he discovered that on top of his bed lay the lifeless body of a very small girl.

 

He found that he had stopped breathing.

 

And the kid was so still and curled up in his bed in a way that it looked like she might have been sleeping. The illusion was shattered by the sharp bones protruding grotesquely from her chest, her own blood dampening her shirt to such an extent that Sans couldn’t even tell what color her shirt was. And Sans felt a jolt of panic, briefly, because he couldn’t  _remember_ —

 

He couldn’t remember having killed Frisk. All evidence pointed to this being a tiny Frisk. But this kid  _wasn’t_  Frisk.

 

She wasn’t Frisk but she _looked_ like Frisk, just a little bit tinier than Frisk had been when she'd come to him. She had same messy brown hair. She had the same chubby cheeks and the same little nose. And in his dreamlike state, he somehow knew this kid was Frisk's.

 

 _Frisk's kid_ , somehow.  _His_  and _Frisk's_.

 

Her red blood coated his bones and Sans was horrified but sure that, for some reason, it had been he who had killed her. Several thoughts jumped in his head, muddling his mind and his senses to the point that he couldn't tell them apart. But he felt shock—

 

He felt— He felt a certain pained loss that he had never felt before. This was  _his kiddo_ , dead on his bed... Tinier than Frisk had been and he had killed her.

 

Tinier than  _his kid_  had been when they had met and  _what was wrong with him_ , how could he have hurt them like that, how could—

 

Soft echoes of the faintest sobbing. Blood on his coat; his sins on his back. Another dead child. Was  _that_  why Frisk was crying? He was sorry. He didn't know why he had done it. He vaguely recalled enjoying it. But they— They could try again, couldn’t they?

 

They could have another one—

 

The sobs grew progressively more real as the dream faded and then the sound of shuffling roused him awake.

 

Darkness surrounded him. Sans was lying on his bed. And when he saw the faint outline of Frisk on the floor, quietly digging through the contents of her backpack, he felt the sudden impulse to rush to her and  _beg her to forgive him_ , but—

 

But then he noticed that the scent of blood wasn’t permeating the air.

 

He remembered that he and Frisk couldn’t have children.

 

And he felt a wave of relief along with a strange sense of loss. It had been a dream. He hadn’t killed—

 

He hadn’t _had_ —

 

He didn’t know why he still felt like mourning a child that never had been. And maybe it was just the fact that he and Frisk would never be able to have a normal life together.

 

It took him a long time to realize that Frisk really had been crying. And when she choked back another distinct sob, Sans froze into place in a way that he could only describe as cowardly.

 

She was miserable. It was more than likely his fault. And he wanted to be strong for her and go to her. He knew how much she depended on him. But sometimes…

 

Sometimes, he just  _couldn’t._ He couldn’t deal with it.

 

He was  _so, so tired_. _So_ weak. And Frisk, despite her childish vulnerability, even if she didn’t know it, she was infinitely stronger than  _he_  was.

 

And she needed him, but often— Often, Sans  _selfishly_  felt that  _he needed_   _her more_ and—

 

He felt like a coward, and a thief, as he froze; with the weight of his sins and his pain and his hopelessness on the kid’s delicate shoulders because he’d never told her… He’d never been selfless enough to tell her not to worry about him.

 

And because he hadn’t told her, he was sure that she sometimes felt she  _had_  to.

 

She could be  _so selfless_  and he just  _took_ —

 

She stopped digging through her backpack for just a moment. As his eye sockets slowly adjusted to the darkness, he could begin to see more of what she was doing. He made out the outline of empty nice cream wrappers and dirty band-aids littering the floor next to her, and  _hah_ …

 

Had she _really_ kept all of that junk in her backpack up until now just so that she wouldn’t litter? She was  _so cute_. This kid was really something else…

 

She was adorable. Such a sweet kid and _he loved her_.

 

He felt himself unable to move when he saw the expression she was wearing.

 

She was— She looked like she was  _definitely talking to someone_.

 

The kid looked like she was currently in the middle of a rather animated discussion that only she could hear. She was deeply concentrated, her brows furrowed with the same stubborn determination that could in an instant cause him so much distress—

 

_Was she Saving, or…?_

the sudden urge to  **stop it** (he suppressed it)

And she was probably just _talking to Chara_.

 

He was about to let Frisk know he was awake by calling her to him when Frisk started digging through her backpack _again_ a little more insistently. She took out a t-shirt, seemed to inspect it… and then she angrily shoved it back into her backpack with more force than was probably necessary and—

 

"I  _know!_ I know that something’s different!" Her voice was barely above a frustrated whisper but he could tell from the anger behind it that this was Frisk’s way of yelling at Chara. "I already _know_ , _okay?_ Just let me  _think._  Just let me—  Just  _shut up_  and let me think for  _one freaking second_ , Chara!"

 

There was a pause during which she kept digging through her backpack, taking the chance to discard more empty wrappers into the growing pile of trash and occasionally tugging at the front of her shirt collar like it was so tight that it was choking her. And then she spoke with an air of determined finality, "It has nothing to do with— Stop suggesting that. I’m not leaving him."

 

And just like that the empty cavity of his chest felt like it had been filled with a flash of cold water.

 

 _Him_. They were talking about  _him_ , weren’t they?

 

Never before had he  _so badly wished_  he could hear what the _not-Frisk_ was saying.

 

Frisk let out a muffled groan. She sounded completely exasperated. "I  _know_  he—" Another sigh. "He won't hurt us anymore. He'll stop. He— He _stopped_ , earlier. He's just lonely, like we are. If I let him come with us, he'll—"

 

A brief pause and then her voice faltered. “I— I let him do that.

 

“He wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t been okay with it.

 

“I  _am_  okay with it,” she told Chara stubbornly. “I’m  _fine_.”  _Stubborn_  and  _lying_  and—

 

She raised her voice as loud as she seemed to dare it. “I’m not  _lying_  to myself!” It sounded like a very angry whisper. “I _am_ okay with it, he can do whatever he wants. I—”

 

There was another pause during which she quietly listened and then her anger melted into defeat on her face. "I... Yeah. I still love him," she whispered, and it sounded like  _a shameful admission_ , like that was something even  _she_  wasn’t ready to confess. Shame and pain were thick in her voice, and then she very softly admitted, "I can't stop loving him.”

 

An uncomfortable pause. "You  _know_  I've tried.”

 

And then her optimism returned with a forced determination. His kid started _defending_ him, vouching _for_ him, and  _kiddo_ —

 

"He'll be better. I'll help him. It's not his fault, anyway— You _know_ it's not, he wouldn't be this mad if I hadn't left him, and he only hurts me because of— He never killed me before you made us kill Papyrus.  _No_ , he  _never_ —”

 

_sweetheart, i’m worse than you think i am—_

 

"Those times don't  _count_. Shut _up_. I told you to  _never talk about that_  and—”

 

why did it hurt so much to hear her defending him like that?

 

She buried her face behind her hands. "He was just trying to fix things. He _regretted_ it. He _said_ he was _sorry_ —”

 

He felt like the heart he didn’t have was breaking.

 

"He _was_ sorry.  _Shut_   _up!_ ” And then she started sobbing, just sadder and more vulnerable than ever.

 

She let out a strained "I can't leave again without him."

 

And then he'd heard _enough_.

 

That was far more than he could take. He couldn’t keep listening to his kid talking like that. And his soul weighed like a heavy bitterness in his chest, and—

 

He whispered a tentative, shy and anxious, "… _frisk?_ "

 

Frisk jumped up, clearly startled, before tugging again at the front of her shirt. She looked scared for just a fraction of a second, before focusing her gaze at him with clear worry and—

 

His name left her lips, her soft voice making it sound almost heavenly, and he wanted...

 

He wanted to kiss her. 

 

He  _knew_  what would happen next, if he did.

 

_(A kiss that would turn into two, and three, and lust, and pain, and guilt, and sex…Innocent kisses weren’t for them.)_

 

He stopped himself from daring to even go near her.

 

And instead he slowly moved himself into a sitting position on his bed. His kid remained sitting on the floor. And maybe they were both frozen in place, and maybe neither of them dared to go near the other, but she still looked at him like…

 

Like she was _tired and miserable_ and still somehow despite his many shortcomings she found it in herself to care and be worried about him.

 

He— He didn't _deserve_ it. He'd never deserve her. 

 

He chose to try to at least... Be _somewhat_ _good_.

 

Moved his hand to gently pat the empty space on the bed next to him. And he gently told her, voice soft with a worry of his own _for_ her, "it's too early to be up, kiddo. come back to bed? i can help you go back to asleep, if you’re having nightmares.”

 

And he was thinking of the way he would gently stroke her hair and brush his fingertips across her face until she fell asleep with her head on his chest. But the way her face paled made him think... she might be thinking of something different.

the times they’d made out and he’d forced his hand

down her pants despite her protests to show her he _could_ and made her 

come and feel _so dirty_ that she’d pretend to be asleep until she was

Shame and regret and—his voice was strained when he tried to assure her that “i… i won't try anything."

 

It sounded like a lie even to him when he said that.

 

He felt _so dirty_.

 

And she let out the breath he didn’t know she had been holding. Looked away from him, she didn't get up. And instead she asked him, "Did you hear me talking to Chara just now?”

 

It was a half-lie at best when he said "no". She knew him so well. His tone had a flatness to it that she had come to accurately interpret as  _i don’t want to talk about it_.

 

(She'd sometimes used the same tone herself. Sans was _such a bad example_.)

 

She let out a tired groan and buried her face in her hands with a tired frustration. And then she curled herself up into a ball with her knees to her chest, and whispered “ _God_. I’m  _so tired_.”

 

“...sweetheart?”

 

“My soul feels  _heavy,"_  she told him, causing him to pause as his magic threatened to flare up with anxiety. "Just... Just _heavy_ and  _gross."_  It was a clear if unwitting rejection, making him shrink into himself with pain and with guilt.

 

Their souls weren't compatible.

 

His very essence, all that he was…

 

“I  _hate_  it," she whispered, and he wanted to die when she said it. She kept digging through the contents of her backpack after a short pause, but didn’t seem to really be paying attention to what she was doing anymore. “I just... It feels _almost_ like… Chara thinks it’s another person. But how many souls like Chara can there  _be?_ And besides, this doesn’t feel like… This feels  _worse_  than how Chara felt”—her words _stung_ —“Heavier…”—she paused—“Just… Just _awful_.”

 

"Like it wants to—to _own_ me." (She blushed). "Or kill me. And hurt me. I can't... It’s _a very bad feeling_. I feel _so_ _sick_."

 

She went quiet for a very long moment, as if she was trying to look within herself or was trying to identify just exactly what it was she felt. Her hands started shaking, her breaths became shallow. And then she casually said, almost as if she wasn’t even _there_ right now, “I don't even know why I'm telling you this. It doesn’t matter.”

 

She was lying.  


And “kid—”

 

She hid her face behind her hands again. “Could you just take me back? I feel _so guilty_ for leaving Undyne alone back there.”

 

A flash of anxiety and a reminder that she was more than likely to die again, causing the world to RESET. He couldn’t help but try to persuade her to stay. “you’ve barely slept.”

 

She shrugged. “It’s nothing I’m not used to.”

 

“no… kiddo, undyne can wait. you need sleep. just come back to bed. i’ll take you straight to asgore in the morning if you want me to, just—”

 

“ _Sans_ ,” she told him, glaring at him with an air of stubborn annoyance. “You’re not my _dad_. Stop _fussing_ over me.”

 

She might as well have slapped him.

 

It hurt him just the same and—and pissed him off—

 

“ _really_ , kid?” he asked her, irritation of his own now thick in his voice. “you’re doing this _now_ , after i’ve _fucked_ you? you really think i care ‘cause i think you’re _my fucking kid?_ i’m not ‘fussing over you’ because i want to, brat; _i just don’t want another RESET_.”

 

And then they both went very quiet, and he regretted what he’d said pretty much immediately.

 

The kid took several deep breaths. She fiddled with a zipper of her backpack and just stared at it. And he nervously muttered, “shit. sorry, kid, that came out wrong—”

 

Her voice was flat. “Whatever. I don’t care.”  
  
“frisk—”

 

“No… No.  Really. Just— Whatever. You wouldn’t be the first person who doesn’t give a shit about me. You just take what you want, right? _Fine_. Whatever. Just _fine_.”

 

“sweetheart,” he begged, scrambling away from the bed so he could sit beside her on the floor. “ _frisky_ , that isn’t true. i _do_ care, i’m sorry—”  
  
She tried to laugh but the sound came out wrong. “No you don’t. You freaking _liar_. You say you do, but you _don’t_. I can _tell_. And do you know how much that— Do you know how much that _hurts?_ ”—her voice broke—“I love you _so much_. So much it hurts. I’m in love with you, you _jerk_. I—”  
  
And then she started sobbing with her face hidden behind her hands and she looked _so ashamed and vulnerable_ and he—  
  
He felt like complete shit.  
  
He tried to hug her and she flinched away.  
  
And he just _couldn’t_ —  
  
“ _please_ , kiddo,” he begged, miserable. “ _please_ don’t cry. i’ll take you to undyne. i’ll take you anywhere you want. i’m _yours_. my soul is yours. _please_ , kid? _sweetie?_ just tell me what you want. tell me what to do and i’ll do it.”  
  
“Just forget it.” She sounded defeated. “I know you can’t— I know you _try_. You try _so hard_. I’m not angry, I just—”  
  
She sighed. “Just take me back to Undyne. I still love you. I know you _try_... Just take me back. If Flowey finds out I came back here, he’s going to kill me.  
  
“ _Not_ literally,” she added quickly, just as soon as she saw how Sans tensed up. “He’d just be really upset. Sorry, just— _Ugh_.  
  
“I am really, _really_ tired. I can’t wait for all this to be over.”  
  
He wasn’t sure what he could possibly say. He didn’t want her to go, and still he—  
  
“i love you,” he told her.  
  
“i could just… i could just take you straight to asgore. if you wanted.”  
  
And the kid just shook her head. “I really want to meet everyone. I’ve never seen Waterfall until now. And everyone’s so nice, once I get to know them…”  
  
He grabbed her hand and pulled her _close_.  
  
“ _you’re_ nice,” he told her, pressing his mouth to her neck over where he’d previously marked her. He planted a kiss there before inhaling her scent: vanilla and flowers and _his faint magic._ “you’re _better_. we’ve all tried to kill you, but _you_ —”  
  
He pressed another kiss and _then another_ as he held her close to him and maybe he should _stop_ —  
  
She remained _so still_ as he held her that he had to stop himself from trying to see how far he could go with her. And instead, he whispered, “you’re an angel, sweetheart.”  
  
He kissed the top of her head and gave up.  
  
And then he held her close and took her small hand in his and took them both back to where he had found her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to take a forced "vacation" from writing for like a week. It's the longest I've ever spent not writing since this thing started. I feel rusty? I'm sorry for the long wait. ;_; And for the lack of Undyne.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO, SO SORRY THIS CHAPTER TOOK THIS LONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> I know it's been months. T_T I live, but things are tough.

He brought her back to Waterfall. And she took him by surprise when he couldn't hold back and held her tightly and she moved up to kiss his cheekbone instead of fighting him. _  
  
This kid was really something else.  
  
_ “I'll be fine,” she soothed him. Tried to comfort him in her soft, warm voice. “I'll be fine. Don't worry, Sans. Just trust me.”  
  
She smelled of faint vanilla and felt like redemption and—  
  
He _really_ didn't want to let her go. “frisk...”  
  
He didn't know quite what to say.  
  
And the air felt more humid than ever in Waterfall. The dampness of the atmosphere was almost asphyxiating. How had he never noticed? He was willingly leaving his kid here. Leaving her to die. Again, and again, and again... For however long it took for her to give up. And she was _just a kid,_ why couldn't she see it. She was just a kid, and Undyne was the head of Underground's Royal Guard.  
  
His kid would never make it.

He knew it; maybe she did, too.  
  
And he felt... dirty, agreeing to this. Giving her _this_ , in exchange for her. He was letting her hurt herself, and it felt like betrayal.  
  
“kiddo,” his arms off her waist and his hands holding hers and his pleading voice managed to choke out “be safe, alright?”  
  
Panic and anxiety building up. He hoped that he meant it. He'd hurt her bad enough, but when it came to wanting Frisk—alive, happy and safe—he _meant_ it.  
  
 _(And he’d be good, when she went back to him, he wouldn’t… He’d try not to hurt her.  
  
It couldn’t be that bad, being with him.)  
  
_“Yeah,” and she let go of him. It felt like a part of his soul had been torn away. A burst of anxious magic fluttered within his chest cavity. And he wondered if _she_ felt it, with his magic treacherously wrapped around the kid's soul. How much could she tell was off? How much was she ignoring?  
  
The kid frowned.  
  
 ~~who could care, anyway. he could practically~~ ~~ _feel_~~ ~~the upcoming RESET.  
  
~~ And she just—  
  
The kid looked completely determined. “I just need to run faster this time,” she assured him, soft voice as warm and soothing as always and “Don’t worry. _Really_. I'm super determined. It’ll be fine. I—”  
  
Something in her shifted. Her frown took on a certain hesitant. And when she looked at him again, she seemed to be searching for something—deep within herself.  
  
“I love you,” she said with an air of finality. It sounded like a promise. And maybe that was that. _  
  
He_ couldn't say it back. If she found out what he did, the words might sound like a lie. And so just— “just come back safe. alright, kiddo?”  
  
“Yeah.” She took a red bandana from her pants pocket. Sans recognized it—it was the same one Papyrus had gifted her two Christmases ago. And when she tied it around her neck, She _hid his bitemark_.   
  
She was...  
  
 _such_ a good kid, wasn't she.  
  
And when she told him “Wait for me, ok?” he had no choice but to do it.  
  
Stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and one last reminder, “don't get hurt.”  
  
He let her go.  
  
  
  
The wait for her to come back felt like forever.  
  
  
  
There came a point—and it felt like _hours—_ when Waterfall felt like a prison. He stopped being so sure that he could stay behind anymore. The world hadn't RESET, but the kid was still out of sight. And it had probably only been minutes passing, but the timeline could end any moment. And when he'd first seen her, she had been closer to Hotland, hadn't she. Running just past his old sentry station...  
  
…  
  
It couldn't hurt, to simply teleport there, could it. He'd be good, he wasn't about to have the kid go through another forced RESET. And of course, if there was a way to kill Undyne without his kid finding out, he'd do it... ( ~~There was so,~~ ~~ _so_~~ ~~much he would do, if he could only get away with it.)  
  
~~ But he couldn't seize any opportunities from where he was, could he?  
  
He stepped into the familiar shortcut, and was instantly met with a less humid, more pleasant warmth. There was something about his old sentry station. It almost always lulled him to sleep.  
  
What would Frisk think, if she saw him there?  
  
He tried to feel her with his magic and could distinctly tell where she was from their connection, but when he tried to get a more palpable feel of her soul, he felt nothing.  
  
Was she really bound to him or not? This wasn't at all like the old stories. She felt—more anxious, probably. Had told him Chara was having a fit. But wasn't she supposed to _feel_ what he felt, or at least feel connected to him in some way...? He should have just used his soul on hers. But his soul was dirty, tainted... _So undeserving_ of hers.  
  
His magic would do. He had enough of it for the both of them.  
  
And Frisk...  
  
(He yawned. It really _felt_ nice to be this close to Hotland.)  
  
Frisk would accept him. She loved him. She had proven time and time again just how much she did.  
  
There was a moment when he felt the kid almost freeze at one spot and he panicked. A faint ringing in his ear drums that got louder and **louder** —the beginning of a **painful headache** —  
  
RESET— R E S E T —  
  
He ducked and froze. And then he felt the kid just running in circles...  
  
Ah. Undyne's green attack.  
  
 _Fuck_.  
  
Well, his kid definitely reached the end of the timeline, there. As far as Sans could tell, he could make one of two choices, he could either  
  
* INTERVENE and piss off Frisk, or * ACCEPT THE RESET and GO TO SLEEP  
  
He...  
  
Nothing fucking mattered, really. Either way, the Anomaly would RESET. Nobody would fault him if he just went to sleep.  
  
And so he did. Just fucking go to sleep, it was _hopeless_.  
  
  
If he had any time to dream at all, he dreamt of Frisk.  
  
  
And before long,  
  
  
“...SANS!!!”  
  
The kid was shrieking at him from just a few centimeters away, frustration ringing in her chiding voice as she shook her shoulder, glaring at him. Sans nearly jumped out of his bones. _What the fuck—Frisk—  
  
_ She stopped shaking him once his eye sockets opened up and he sat up, soul fluttering in his chest wildly as he looked at his surroundings. Had he been dreaming...? “ _Honestly_ , Sans, oh my god. You are the hardest person to wake up, I swear I've been trying for like literally half an hour.”  
  
“frisk? ...what?”—his voice was hoarse from confusion and tiredness both—“did i miss the RESET?”  
  
She couldn't help but look a little insulted. "There's _been_ no Reset."  
  
He fully woke up at that, the fear and anxiety he'd once felt for her coming back at full force. Quickly got up to inspect his kiddo, his non-existent stomach twisting with worry. She'd been attacked by Undyne— _his kid_ —  
  
If one of her limbs had been cut off, he would have been angry but not entirely surprised. But instead Frisk's skin was just covered in sweat. It dampenedher shirt. He forced himself not to stare at her chest. There was a little blood and a few scratches and little cuts, nothing too bad—nothing fatal—  
  
 _(Fucking hypocrite that he was— he'd done much worse, countless of times.)  
  
_ And her face was still red and she looked frankly tired and he assumed, correctly, that she'd decided again to run from Undyne. It'd been a stupid decision. But _she was safe_.  
  
And if she was still running, that meant—his hopes went up—and “kid, if you need me to take you back home—”  
  
She shook her head, stubborn as always. Pushed something cool into his hand. He looked down at it: a cup of water? “Undyne let me go,” Frisk told him. And he just stared at the cup.  
  
Maybe he _was_ dreaming.  
  
“you didn't fight.” It was obvious she hadn't. He felt stupid confirming it.  
  
“Of course not,” she told him. “I'd never fight any of you.” She was entirely sincere.   
  
_And the memory of Frisk, broken and under him, crying for him to stop and begging him and yet not fighting back even once.  
  
_ A thick sludge of guilt slopped inside his chest.  
  
He tried to push guilty feelings away. (That was then; this was now. _He'd be good. He'd do better._ ) And so just "but then... kiddo, _how_...?"  
  
Frisk just shrugged. "I couldn't befriend Undyne," she told him, looking down and for all the world as if she'd failed him, somehow, despite staying alive and coming back to him. "She doesn't... I don't think she likes me very much, and I was too busy running and couldn't exactly try to talk. But I _did_ prove that I didn't mean harm to anyone, and I think I sort of helped her back there when she fell down and— I really don't think she'll attack me again. I was hoping... I sort of wanted things to end differently, but maybe surviving was the best I could do."  
  
“that was the one thing i wanted you to do,” he told her. He moved to set aside the cup— “sweetheart, you did so good—”  
  
The kid shook her head, pushed the cup back to him. “Um. Actually, drink that.”  
  
He raised a browbone. “what are you, poisoning me?”  
  
“No!!!” Frisk's cheeks turned a deeper red. “I just—! I noticed, after helping Undyne... I don't think I've ever seen you drink anything other than ketchup. So I wondered... Maybe you're not lazy, Sans. Maybe you're just... dehydrated...”  
  
Maybe he was just dehydrated.  
  
It took him a full five seconds to decide if he should feel more love toward this kid or just start laughing. To think of _that_ , after all she'd done... His Frisk could be _so sweet_. And in the end, he just leaned in and pulled Frisk into a hug, setting aside the water so he could—  
  
“ _frisk_. you're so _c_ ute.” A kiss to her neck, pushing aside her bandana. “sweetie, don't worry about _me_.”  
  
She tried to push him off like she was about to say something,  
  
then gave out a little _shriek_ when he drew his tongue out to lick her neck.  
  
She moved away her face away and wriggled against him in a way that felt _so good_ and “ _Stop_ it.”  
  
“you want me to stop?” He forced her closer to him, nipped her neck. “don't you like this?” She _could_. He'd show her—  
  
And when he moved a hand to her waist and summoned up a trail of magic the kid let out the sweetest, softest moan and—  
  
“ _Please_ stop.” She was crying. She sounded terrified. " _Please_ stop, _please_ , it makes me feel _so bad—_ "  
  
He felt suddenly sick with himself, hearing her like that. Nausea and bile and a dread like lead. Filth. Guilt. Slime.   
  
She sounded like a crying child.  
  
He forced himself to take his mouth and hands off of her.

 

"sorry," he muttered, feeling equal parts guilty and horny and _disgusted_ with himself when the kid pushed away and hugged herself and tugged at the front of her chest so anxiously that he wished they were once again miles apart. " _sorry_ , kiddo. i didn't mean that; that's not what i want. i just want— sweetheart,” he pleaded, “i _love_ you."  
  
"I know." She sounded far away, like she'd barely held him. Kept nervously pulling at her shirt collar, right over where her soul would be. "I'm... I'm sorry."  
  
“frisk—” He put his hands on her shoulders. The kid flinched. He took them away. And  
  
It stung. This wasn't going at all like he had once hoped it would.  
  
“Sorry, sorry,” the kid was slowly panicking. He couldn't touch her. Couldn't get near her. And all he could do was  
  
“kiddo, _shhhh_ ,” he tried to soothe her. To talk her down from whatever this was. “calm down, frisky.” She sobbed at that and he winced—“shhh, i won't hurt you—kid, i promise—  
  
“ _please_ don't cry. that's not what i want. kiddo, _please_ don't cry. please. you're safe. i won't hurt you. i won't—”  
  
How many times had he said that before?  
  
Would she ever even believe it?  
  
He tried to hold her one more time and made it worse. The kid started just _bawling_. And in the end, it was all he could do to just helplessly wait as his kid cried out.  
  
He felt like shit. He'd made everything worse. And his kid was miserable, was crying and panicking—because of him.  
  
The phone rang in her pocket eventually. He wondered if he should try to summon it out with magic, but in the end it just went to voice mail.   
  
The kid's little sobs died out after what felt like a painstakingly long time.

And in the end she just ended up burying her face against his coat like always. He panicked, not wanting to screw things up. He'd keep his hands in his pocket, but—  
  
But—  
  
“sweetheart,” he whispered. “i love you so much. can i please, _please_ hug you?” He was so worried. He loved her. He felt so helpless.  
  
And when she nodded against his coat and he wrapped his arms around her _finally_ and—  
  
“Sorry,” she told him. “I'm so _stupid_ —”  
  
“don't say that,” he cut her off, chiding her gently as he stroked her hair, pulling her close. “you're amazing, frisk.”  
  
“No I'm not,” she argued back, frustrated, voice faintly muffled by his coat. “There's something _wrong_ with me.”   
  
“shh, hey,” he pulled her off so he could look at her. She'd gotten so tall over the years—at full height, she was almost as tall as _him_ now and—  
  
She was still so, _so_ pretty. Her eyes were so bright. And there was something about her that just exuded kindness, and MERCY, and warmth. “you're perfect.”  
  
And her cheeks turned red and she looked away and maybe she just didn't want to believe him, how beautiful she was.  
  
“tell you what,” he offered. “i know you like the 'lake'. there's a river nearby; if you want, we could go sit by it.”  
  
The kid shook her head. “I can't. Sans, I'm really tired. I can't sit down, I'd fall asleep. And I... I kind of have to call Papyrus back.”  
  
He raised a brow bone. “Papyrus?”  
  
“I'm assuming Papyrus,” she said, taking out her phone. “He called me a few times when I was running from Undyne. At first, in a different timeline—I sort of remember I thought it was you, so I tried to pick up... And, uh, died. But I remember it was Papyrus calling.  
  
“I had to let it go to voicemail this time but I feel so bad about it,” she confessed. “You know how Papyrus gets. He probably wants to know where you are.”  
  
“he doesn't know i'm here,” he told the kid. And the worry he'd been feeling for Frisk began to turn into anxious worry for Papyrus.  
  
The kid gave him a puzzled look, but dropped it. Called up Papyrus on the phone. And she didn't try to leave, he could hear the phone ringing as she called. Frisk was such a quiet, collected kid— but she rarely if ever hid things from him.  
  
Something weird within him fluttered—either affection, or trust, or guilt.  
  
He hid _so many things_ from this kid.  
  
When Papyrus picked up, his voice was so loud Sans could clearly hear it. His bro sounded relieved and happy all at once. "HUMAN!!! I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOUR CALL!"  
  
Frisk gave a shy smile that only Sans could see and, "Hi, Papyrus."  
  
"HOW IS YOUR ADVENTURING?” Papyrus asked, enthusiastically. “I ASSUME THE BATTLE TECHNIQUES I TAUGHT YOU HAVE KEPT YOU SAFE, FOR YOU WERE A GOOD STUDENT AND MY BATTLING AND TEACHING SKILLS ARE BOTH VERY GREAT."  
  
The kid chuckled at that, sending a wave of affection and approval purring in his chest. She could be so kind to Papyrus. He loved her for it, was one of the things he'd originally liked the most about her...  
  
His brother was so cool. He deserved a friend like Frisk.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine. How have you been? How are things in Snowdin?"  
  
A pause.  
  
And the tone in Papyrus' voice turned drastically different. "THINGS ARE... WELL. I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE BEEN HANDLING THINGS SPLENDIDLY. BUT HUMAN... I HAVE BEEN THINKING.” It was the same tone of voice Paps took when he'd asked Sans if things were okay.   
  
  
"PERHAPS IT WAS... A MISTAKE FOR ME TO LET YOU GO ON YOUR OWN WITHOUT HELP. I WANT TO CORRECT THIS. DO YOU DESIRE ASSISTANCE IN BEFRIENDING MY ALREADY-FRIEND?"  
  
"You mean Undyne?" Frisk asked, puzzled. "Um... Well, to be honest, Papyrus..."  
  
"I INSIST!” Paps... insisted. “FOR I HAVE STARTED TO BELIEVE THAT THE SOONER YOU COME BACK, THE BETTER, HUMAN. NOT BECAUSE I AM A CLINGY SKELETON, FOR I—THE GREAT PAPYRUS—HAVE MANY FRIENDS. BUT MY BROTHER..." A twist of worry in his tone. "I THINK HE MISSES YOU."  
  
There was a moment, when the kid's smile fell from her face, where a different kind of guilt poured into his chest, grounding Sans to the dirt as his kid looked at him with a dawning understanding.  
  
"Sans... misses me?"  
  
"HE HASN'T LEFT HIS ROOM SINCE YOU LEFT," Papyrus told her, sounding distraught and miserable and, knowing him, completely crushed having to resort to ask for help. "HE HAS BECOME EVEN LAZIER THAN USUAL. I HAVE TRIED SPEAKING TO HIM, BUT HE NEVER ANSWERS ANYMORE AND—AND I THINK HE'S AVOIDING ME...”  
  
He sounded crestfallen. "HUMAN— _PLEASE_ — DO YOU THINK YOU COULD COME BACK A BIT SOON?"  
  
Frisk just held the phone to her ear, her hand slightly trembling. There was a mix of different, unidentifiable emotions flashing through her face before her expression turned completely blank, dejected.   
  
She looked for a moment as if she was about ready to give up.  
  
And when she stole a glance at him and their eyes met, she looked— _so disappointed in him_. It made him feel like _dirt_.  
  
The kid took a deep breath. Closed her eyes, gathered determination. And then she spoke, her voice was as light as always. The kid forced out a laugh. And, "...Oh. Wow. I can't believe he actually followed through with that."  
  
And her voice was light and her tone was joking but she looked completely hopeless and her phone was shaking.  
  
"WENT THROUGH WITH WHAT?? HUMAN, I AM AFRAID I DON'T UNDERSTAND..."  
  
"Sans isn't avoiding you, Papyrus," Frisk said with a gentle, friendly tone. "He's probably been sleeping. You know how he is."  
  
Silence on the other end and then an indignant, "...SLEEPING!?"  
  
"Yeah... I'm so sorry, Papyrus, I should have warned you. Before I left... Sans and I went on this really long hike. _Hours_ and _hours_." She was lying. They'd never been on more than an hour-long hike, and the kid was lying for him. "He spent half the time joking that he'd be so tired afterwards, he'd probably sleep for weeks. I guess... I guess he wasn't joking. I never thought he was telling the truth."  
  
Another silence on the Pap's end of the phone.  
  
"You... You really were right, Papyrus. Um. I guess Sans really is a huge lazybones."  
  
The frustrated screech that came from Papyrus at that was furious indignation. "SANS HAS BEEN SLEEPING THIS ENTIRE TIME!?" Sans could practically _see_ his brother's face and googly eyes as Paps exploded.  
  
"It was my fault!" Frisk was quick to say, excusing him, taking the blame...  
  
As she usually did, he realized.  
  
 ~~He was letting this kid take on~~ ~~ _far_~~ ~~more responsibility than he ever should.  
  
~~ "I shouldn't have insisted on such a long hike,” Frisk said, trying to assuage Papyrus. “Sans just wanted to make me happy, Papyrus... And I tired him out. I am so sorry."  
  
"HUMAN!” Papyrus screeched, fury quickly subsiding. “THERE IS NO REASON FOR YOU TO BE SORRY. MY BROTHER AND I AGREE YOU DESERVE ALL THE HAPPINESS IN THE WORLD! BUT I STILL THINK... I KNOW MY BROTHER, FRISK, DESPITE HOW MUCH HE TRIES TO HIDE FROM ME. IT CAN'T BE JUST MERE TIREDNESS. I KNOW HE MISSES YOU, FOR YOU (LIKE ME) ARE VERY GREAT AND ONE OF HIS FEW TRUE FRIENDS...  
  
“I MUST INSIST ON HELPING YOU BEFRIEND UNDYNE, IT WILL MAKE YOUR TRAVELS MUCH QUICKER! THE SOONER YOU COME BACK HOME, THE BETTER FOR SANS IT WILL BE. I KNOW IT! AND I HAVE ALREADY DESIGNED THE MOST AMAZING, FLAWLESS OF PLANS!"  
  
"Papyrus..."  
  
"I HAVE DECIDED! IWILL NOT TAKE 'NO' FOR AN ANSWER! HUMAN, WHEN YOU ARE READY, PLEASE MEET ME IN FRONT OF UNDYNE'S HOUSE. I WILL HELP YOU, AS I SHOULD HAVE DONE! NYEH HEH HEH!!! YOU SHALL SEE, THIS PLAN IS VERY GREAT. IT WAS, AFTER ALL, DESIGNED BY YOUR BEST FRIEND PAPYRUS! WORRY NOT!!!"  
  
And he hung up.  
  
The kid stared at the phone for a while.  
  
And then, very slowly, she put her phone in her pocket. She took out a mirror. Fixed her hair, cleaned her face. Adjusted her bandana.  
  
"frisk? you're not really going..."  
  
"I thought I'd left you with Papyrus," she told him. And her voice was still soft and gentle but there was an undercurrent of _quiet fury_ that almost made him stand back.  
  
Sans flinched. "i..."  
  
"I thought you'd keep looking after him." She sounded disappointed. "But instead you locked yourself in your room and left Papyrus alone, with _Flowey_?"  
  
And the only reason he'd done what he had done now sounded like a lame excuse. "i thought the timeline was going to RESET."  
  
"So you thought I'd die." She was _furious,_ now _._ "And stopped caring about your brother. Literally the only thing that still makes you a good person"—he flinched—"Sans, you're _so_..."  
  
She angrily shoved her mirror back into her backpack and took out the first aid kit Papyrus had found in the dumpster and given to her three months ago. "You're such a _selfish asshole_."  
  
He'd rarely seen her so pissed off at him.  
  
"frisky... don't get upset." He sounded as pathetic as he felt.  
  
The kid took out a few disinfecting wipes. Started cleaning up her nastier cuts, doing whateger it was humans did to prevent their bodies from getting infected. She was running low on a few things, he noticed... Sans didn't know how to get more. And that was another thought to pile up to the mountain of growing anxieties...  
  
That, along with her hating him.  
  
When the kid sat down to inspect her legs, he knelt down with her. He shyly offered, "let me help."  
  
“I can take care of myself,” she stubbornly snapped at him, and it was obvious that she was trying to hold back on another fight.  
  
He ignored her and took the wipe away from her, pushing away her hand by the wrist. "you missed a cut just underneath your ear,” he told her, going after it. “d'you feel that?"  
  
"It burns all over," Frisk told him, making him wince. "Undyne is kind of ruthless."  
  
“she might not stop,” he told her gently, wiping away as much of her drying blood as he could before picking up a fresh wipe. The coppery scent was familiar. It made his nonexistent stomach twist. He regretted having done something like this to her.  
  
 ~~And, sickeningly enough, also kind of missed it.  
  
~~ “you could get really hurt out here. kid, papyrus wants you back, why can't you just—” ~~  
  
~~She cut him off with a nasty remark and, “She's not worse than _you_."  
  
And...  
  
She was right. But that didn't make it sting any less.  
  
It hurt.  
  
"frisk... _don't_.” He pleaded. “you know i love you."  
  
The Anomaly gave the smallest of shrugs. She looked completely indifferent. And tired, and lonely,  
  
 _She was such a lonely, sad little child.  
  
_ After he was done, Sans moved a hand to brush her cheek with his thumb. "i _do_ love you,” he told her. And she might believe him, some day.   
  
“I know,” she told him. “I know you mean it.” The kid looked dejected. And she sounded very sad and very honest when she told him “But sometimes I feel like you really, _really_ can't.”  
  
He choked down a rising panic. Choked down desperation, possessiveness, the desperate need to prove her wrong with force—  
  
His magic was wound tightly around her soul. And who cared if she didn't believe him, for now, or think that she could ever be happy with him.  
  
He'd prove her wrong. “i'll take you to undyne's house,” he told her.  
  
He'd show her. “i know a good shortcut,” he forced a smug wink.  
  
And he had all the time in the world, now. Hopefully. The kid was his.  
  
And he took her small hand in his and he started to actually get excited at the idea of seeing her face light up as he started guiding her to the river. “you'll love this particular one.  
  
“trust me.”   
  


 


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. Hi.

The River Person was pretty predictable as far as monsters went, and Sans' old sentry station wasn't too far from where they were likeliest to be. It would be a half an hour walk, _tops,_ and the reward was too tempting— He knew Frisk loved exploring, and so

 

He was _so sure_ the kid would love this shortcut. She'd _loved_ the Temmie village, loved visiting Hotland with him last year—

 

He was so sure he knew what he was doing, and was surprised when she didn't budge at all, when he tried to lead her.

 

“ _frisk_.” He gave her a short, _sharp_ tug in his direction but the kid didn't budge. Anxiety began to pool in the pit of his hollow rib cage. He had a very specific plan in mind for making up with the kid. He'd take her to Undyne's, through the river— Show her around, like old times, make her smile yet—

 

“kiddo... _trust_ me, you'll like this shortcut.” He sounded stupid, begging her to go along with him, but the kid wasn't moving. Sans wasn't quite sure what to do. Frisk had always been such a docile, _malleable_ child. And yet—

 

“I just... I'd rather— Um.” There was a slight frown on her face. She _very gently_ pushed him away. He couldn't help but wonder if she had been expecting him to fight back. And she seemed to be working _very hard_ at finding the right words to say. “I don't want a shortcut.” A stab to his chest.

 

“It's not that I don't love you,” she added quickly, almost _too_ quickly, and he had to wonder just what it was she was reading from the expression in his face. “I _really_ love you. I love you so much.

 

“But—”

 

She hesitated.

 

There was a brief, fleeting window where it would have been easy, _so easy_ , to just ignore the kid and what she wanted. His grip on her hand tightened, but then his pupils met hers.

 

She looked so tired, defeated and miserable. A tiny spark of almost pity flickered within his chest. And he couldn't do it. He couldn't just drag her to where he wanted. She'd hate it.

 

~~He'd already dragged her through worse.~~

 

Sans shoved his hands in his pockets, away from the kid. He made himself nudge her, like he'd done so many times before. “but...? sweetie, you can tell me. you know i won't be mad. promise, sweetheart.”

 

“I don't want a shortcut,” she admitted softly. He had to strain his eardrums to hear it. And she looked almost embarrassed, staring at the ground. She opened her mouth again before closing it, thinking twice about elaborating. It was such a subtle gesture but _Sans noticed_.

 

It wasn't the shortcut, what the kid was dreading. It was his magic.

 

“kiddo...” He sighed. Kept his fists wedged deep into his pockets, shoulders forcefully relaxed and unthreatening despite the knot forming in his throat. “sweetie, i'm not gonna hurt you.”

 

That sounded like a lie even to him and he winced.

 

Frisk didn't notice. She kept her attention on the ground and shook her head. “It's not that. Um. I just don't—”

 

“it's not a shortcut like we usually take a shortcut, if it helps,” he offered. “it's more like a— more of a detour, kiddo. compared to my usual shortcuts. i won't even use magic. we'll just walk a few minutes, then take a right.” Then he added, with a hint of worry, “getting to undyne's takes longer if we walk the entire way back. you look tired, kid.”

 

“I'm _fine_ ,” the kid insisted. Determined and _stubborn_.

 

Sans took a deep breath—and tried not to roll his pupils. _This kid..._ “ _fine_. you're 'fine'. do it for me, then. we're friends, right?”

 

“I don't _want_ —”

 

“walking all the way back to undyne's place would take _hours_ ,” Sans insisted. “c'mon. any other way'd just be inefficient—”

 

“you're just saying that because you don't want to walk,” Frisk pointed out, and she was kind of right. Glared at him judgmentally, slight frown on her face. “you're a _lazybones_.”

 

“that's right,” Sans agreed out of habit. He'd heard the same argument from Papyrus... Frisk had probably gotten that argument _from_ Papyrus. If he wasn't getting so damn frustrated, he might even find the whole thing hilarious. “so do this for me, kiddo.”

 

Frisk looked about to pull her hand away when Sans tightened his grip slightly. He didn't know what else to do. “i promise no magic.”

 

“But then how—”

 

“just _trust me_ ,” he began to insist. Then he realized how ridiculous and unrealistic that request sounded, and something in him deflated a little.

 

He tried again, voice softer. “there's a monster close to here who likes to hang out on their boat. they're always kinda lonely... jump at the chance of passengers. i thought you might like going back to waterfall that route... thought i'd give you a surprise.”

 

He sounded pathetic. He tried again, promising, “we won't be alone, frisk.”

 

The kid stayed quiet, staring at the ground. Sans didn't know if she was thinking, listening to Chara or both—

  
He waited until she was done with _whichever_ , staring at the wooden bridge ahead. Kid must have crossed it twice to bring him the water Sans didn't drink. He felt a swift stab of guilt, imagining her having to cross the bridge by herself. His kiddo had loved Hotland when he'd taken her last year— But it felt different, somehow, to imagine her running by herself over the magma to him, holding—

 

~~three bottles of ketchup~~

 

~~He~~ ~~_had_ ~~ ~~to stop thinking of Frisk and their first time in Hotland.~~

 

The kid let out a tired breath. She shifted her weight next to him, thinking. “I _hate_ fighting with you,” she finally muttered, with a finality that made him think that might be all she had to say.

 

“let me make it up to you,” he offered, reaching out once again to run his thumb against the back of her hand. “i'll take you to undyne—”

 

“Want to do something for me?”

 

The question took him by surprise. “of course. anything, kiddo.”

 

“You need to talk to Papyrus.”

 

“uh...”

 

“I mean it,” Frisk told him, frowning at him rather stubbornly. “Sans, you left him alone with _Flowey_. _I've_ been alone with Flowey. It's— He's not _evil_. I know he's just mean because he's lonely. And... Deep down, he's really not that bad... But... It's still... It's _not easy_ , when Flowey's the only one you talk to all the time,” there was something about her expression, the way she carried herself, that made Sans believe it. _“_ And you left _Papyrus—_ ”

 

“ _you_ left _me_ ,” Sans reminded her, and he couldn't help the thick coat of resentment that carried over in his tone. Frisk shook her head and was about to say something, but Sans cut her off. “i just got you back. kiddo, i'll— i shouldn't have neglected paps, you're right. i'll make things right with him—”

 

“You don't _have_ to do anything out of the ordinary,” Frisk pointed out. “Just pay attention to him! You always did.”

 

“right,” Sans told her. “you're right. i will, when we get back home—”

 

“But—!”

 

“ _i just got you back_ ,” he repeated, and maybe Frisk just wasn't quite getting how important she was to him. “ _sweetheart_ , i missed you so much. gimme a chance to focus on you first.

 

“you've been all alone, too.”

 

She didn't seem at all happy with his answer. Frowned at him instead, looking mildly insulted. The kid seemed determined to say something, yet trying to hold back all at once. And in the end, she ended up whispering, “You have _no idea_ how lonely Papyrus can feel.”

 

There was something to the way she said that. It made Sans feel very small.

 

“ _I_ can be alone,” Frisk pointed out, standing up just a little taller and looking as strong and as confident as she possibly could. But the kid was _all of fourteen_ , and she _looked like it_. She wasn't even as tall as _he_ was. There was exhaustion on her face, cuts and little scratches on her skin and dirtied clothes and—

 

He knew that she was strong, for a kid— but right now the strength she was trying to portray seemed more like an act, and entirely unconvincing.

 

“I'm totally fine by myself. I've been alone since way before you met me.”

 

“sweetie, you don't _have_ to be.”

 

She held up her palm and “ _Let me finish_. Sans, I know you... _Ugh_.” She briefly glared at nothing in particular. It made him think perhaps she was struggling with a different conversation in her head. And in the end, she brought her hand to her face and through her hair, exasperated. “You take care of, um. The people you like, to feel useful. And I know you want to be... Like— Not a... Not a _dad_ , but—”

 

Cringe. They were approaching cringe territory, there. Change the topic. Change the topic.

 

She took one look at him and quickly shook her head, palms raised up toward him as if to appease him right away. “Not _that_. But how you're with Papyrus. With me. Ugh. Words. But you're not— You don't... Um. You're _so nice_ to me, often. I realize that. And I appreciate it. It makes me feel, um. Like you love me. _Really_ love me. It's probably the main reason I love you so much, because you—”

 

She shook her head again almost nervously and bit her lip. Looked down at the ground. Started fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, before moving her hands up to focus on pulling at her shirt, right over her chest, where her soul was. “You've been _so nice_ since we met. You've always— Sometimes you can't be, but you've been generally kind to me. You make me feel loved. And I love that about you, and I love _you_ so much for it. But I'm used to— Before I met you, when it was just me and Mom and... Just me and Mom, really. I know Dad didn't care. I just felt like... I know what it's like to not feel loved like that. So if you stopped... If you stopped caring about me, honestly. That would be it for me. But at least— Y'know. It wouldn't be something _new_. And honestly, with the Resets and all... and the kind of stuff I've let Chara do... I know I'd kind of deserve it.”

 

Sans disagreed. He'd never disagreed this much with her. “frisk—”

 

“It's _fine_ ,” she told him, even though that way of thinking was everything _but_ fine. “I wouldn't— It'd be okay if you stop caring about me. But _Papyrus_... He's not like me. He grew up with you. You've always loved him so much. He's not used to... You shouldn't just ignore him like that. He doesn't have that many friends. And you're the person he loves most in the world, anyway, and you just— It's _not fun_ to feel left out. You can't just do that to him. I don't care _what_ you do to me, but you can't just make Paps feel loved and admired and wanted and then one day just _stop_.”

 

“you're right,” Sans told her, reaching out again to grab her hand. “about paps. not about you— you'd never deserve that, kiddo. and i wouldn't do that to you.” He meant it.

 

And he wanted to wrap the kid up in a tight hug. Kiss his mark on her neck.

 

Shifted his weight and put his hands _deep_ inside his coat pockets, balled up tightly into fists.

 

And she looked so... _vulnerable_.

 

He had given her a shred of attention when she'd first come through Tori's door and she'd clung to it ever since.

 

He almost felt sorry for Frisk.

 

Finally, he let out a low, defeated breath. Reached out one more time for her and grabbed her hand, began to pull her gently towards the wooden bridge ahead of them. “you're only right about paps. you should have specified i'm a failure, kid. i'll focus more on him when i see him. apologize if you want. but until then— i can't just leave you alone, frisk.”

 

She looked like she was about to say something. Sans beat her to it, “i messed up so badly with paps. I should've just been born a cat monster.”

 

He hadn't exactly been planning it. He'd just blurted it out. But now Sans found Frisk looking at him with confusion instead of misery on her face and he found—

 

He found that he liked it.

 

“What do you mean?” she asked him, falling for the silly trap Sans hadn't even realized he'd set.

 

“i mean this is a _catastrophe_.”

 

There was a brief moment of silence as Frisk let herself walk besides Sans. Then her eyes widened slightly, disbelief with a hint of frustration. “Did you just—”

 

Sans shrugged, letting go of the kid so he could once again put his hands in his pockets. He was pretty sure she'd follow him on her own now. “maybe. knock, knock.”

 

“Are you serious??”

 

“nah, kiddo. i'm sans.”

 

“That's not what I— _Sans!! Ugh!_ Oh my f— reaking god.”

 

“nice save.” He grinned, stepping foot on the wooden bridge that lay suspended above their first encounter with magma. What little humidity was left of Waterfall's damper air evaporated at this point. The dry, excessive heat felt almost toasty against his bones. It wouldn't have at all bothered Sans, but he looked back and checked on the kid. Her pace had slowed considerably.

 

It was only going to get hotter from here. And he couldn't help but worry and fuss, a tiny bit.

 

“you okay?” The first time he'd taken the kid to Hotland, they had switched almost immediately from Snowdin's freezing temperatures to Hotland's unbearably dry heat. The kid had loved it. She'd had no clue Underground's climate could vary so drastically. And she'd been positively giddy at the sight of the magma flowing just beyond the core, back then— But they were walking right above it, now,

 

And she wasn't even looking at it. Eyes set firmly down on the wooden path ahead. Her pace was sluggish, and he _hoped—_ He _hoped_ it was because of the increase in temperature. He _hoped_ it had nothing to do with—

 

_Frisk_... He'd been far too impatient before claiming this kid.

 

And just how much of her life had he ruined for Frisk by raping her?

 

He looked back at her, slowly following him. Shoulders slumped and exhausted expression, eyes not even once leaving the wooden floor ahead. She looked deep in thought. She probably was. And she looked absolutely miserable, he wasn't imagining it.

 

“you don't look _too hot_ ,” he tried. Frisk ignored him. And so he tried again, and insisted, “knock, knock, kiddo.”

 

There was a delay before she registered the start of his joke. Frisk finally looked up at him, only to then make a huge show of rolling her eyes, acting inconvenienced. But her expression brightened by a fraction regardless, and that was all it took. She was worth it. “I'm going to do you a huge favor and pretend like I'm dying to know who's there.”

 

_heh._ “a broken pencil.”  


“Must be _pointless._ ”

 

_His_ eye sockets widened by a fraction and he swore he would die. He would die of how head over heels he was for her. “ _hah_. you remembered that one. let's try again, kiddo... knock, knock.”

 

He caught the kid trying to fan her neck with her bandanna and couldn't help but feel guilty about being the reason she couldn't take it off. He shouldn't have bitten her neck like that. “Who's there, Sans?”

 

“mikey.” He slightly slowed down his own pace to let Frisk catch up beside him.

 

“Try a different key.”

 

He gave her a pleased grin, letting out a low chuckle. “because _mikey_ doesn't fit in the lock?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“clever child. alright... knock, knock.”

 

“Door's open.” _hah._

 

Sans made a big show of pretending—and failing—to open an invisible door ahead of them. “nope. door's closed. knock, knock.”

 

Frisk let out a dramatic sigh, making a show of rolling her eyes again. She'd started to sweat, and for a moment,

 

He remembered what it was like, to have her sweaty and struggling under him. Making her hurt. Making her feel whatever he wanted.

 

Sins dancing on his back, burrowing like parasites into his shoulders. His breath caught in his throat.

 

Timelines raced inside his mind. He felt more tempted than repulsed, yet too ashamed and too guilty to feel eager about—

 

What he was going to end up doing. What he _knew_ there was _no way_ he wouldn't end up doing.

 

There was an awkward silence.

 

“...Sans? Who's there?”

 

He snapped out of whatever that was. They were past the midpoint of the bridge now. And “honey bee.”

 

And Frisk actually gave him a tiny smile. “Honey bee a dear and open the door yourself.”

 

_...Right._

 

_Ha ha._

 

For someone who often acted like she absolutely _hated_ his jokes, the kid still seemed to remember an awful lot of them.

 

There were many times, when he felt particularly desperate, that Sans would delude himself into thinking maybe this meant he and Frisk shared a sense of humor. That the kid secretly loved his jokes, but was, well—A kid. Still stuck in that juvenile stage where kids felt they had to be too 'cool' for anything. He'd tell Frisk joke after joke. Sometimes out of boredom, sometimes out of an honest attempt to get at least a chuckle. She'd always paid close attention. It was easy to tell himself it was because she liked it. They had something in common.

 

But that wasn't exactly it, was it?

 

“knock, knock.”

 

She rolled her eyes again. She'd never particularly loved his corny jokes. “I swear, I'm going to install a doorbell one of these days.”

 

“ _ding dong_.” She honestly _smiled_ at that. Let out a short, sincere laugh. It would have been easy, _so easy_ , to imagine them always being like that.

 

But she only ever listened to him because it was _him_ talking to her, didn't she?

 

“Who's there, Sans?”

 

He reached out for her again when she was close enough to him and held her hand. Gave it a tight squeeze as he looked at her. “olive, sweetie.”

 

There was a pause that he tried not to read into. Soft hand squeezing him back, and a soft smile on her lips that made him feel— “ _Olive_ you too, Sans.”

 

A spark of magic fluttered in his chest. The hand holding hers felt warm. And she was better than the surface. Better than stars. And “ _hah_. _olive_ you always, kiddo.”

 

He didn't deserve this kid. But he _sure_ wasn't selfless enough to give her up.

 

They reached the end of the bridge and Frisk was drenched in sweat. Sans noticed her eyeing the water cooler ahead of them. Let go of Frisk's hand and felt a loss, then another short stab of guilt when he noticed Frisk get two cups instead of one.

 

One for her. One for him.

 

She'd always been such a sweet, considerate kid.

 

A thought passed through his head, and “say, frisk. how did you run into undyne?”

 

“Before the fight? I think she was following me.” Frisk didn't seem too concerned by it.

 

Sans started to evaluate their options as the kid poured them water. He wasn't sure how much he should say or how well she'd take it—or if she'd listen to him, for that matter. “knowing undyne,” he tried, “she probably has guards all over waterfall and hotland to stop you by now.”

 

“I can deal with that.” She handed him his cup first, raising her eyebrow at him and wordlessly demanding that this time he drink it, then quickly downed most of hers. Stubborn kid didn't seem at _all_ worried. She was with him now, so that was fine, but—

 

“it's unlikely you'll run into guards who know what they're looking for. not that many monsters active in the royal guard currently who remember what the first humans looked like, back when asgore dealt with them. and i—i took care of the rest pretty quick,” Sans admitted, trying not to collapse into himself when he noticed Frisk stiffening slightly. “i'm— i'm not too worried. but i was gonna offer... if you want, i could shortcut us straight to the river. just in case.”

 

Frisk shook her head. Gestured at the cup in Sans' hand once more and he felt almost obligated to take a sip. What a waste of magic. He wasn't even thirsty and would honestly much rather drink anything else.

 

“Walking's fine,” Frisk muttered. “I'm... I'm not exactly dying to meet Undyne.” And then she took one look at him and must have caught the way his expression shifted, because she rolled her eyes before Sans could even begin to shut up. “ _Yes_ , Sans. I'm _Undyne_ to meet her.”

 

“ _hah_. clever.”

 

That drew a small smile out of her. She stared at the ground and shrugged slightly. “Like _you_ weren't about to say it.”

 

“i'm not as _pun_ as you are.”

 

“Very _humerus_ ,” she told him, trying and failing to suppress a grin. She moved her hand as if to lace it around his and then

 

**Stopped**.

 

Something changed in her expression. And before Sans knew it, it was _Frisk_ keeping her hands off him, Frisk crossing her arms and hiding the hand that had been reaching out to him behind her arm. And she looked _guilty_.

 

Almost— ashamed.

 

If shame could spread, he caught it. Soaked it up into his bone marrow, like the sins burrowing deeper into his back. And he felt ashamed—he _should_ be ashamed—

 

The illusion shattered, and they weren't just friends joking around anymore. He cut his bones open with the glass, and suddenly he was bleeding filth, bleeding sludge, bleeding every wrong thing he had ever done or wished he'd done to Frisk. Everything he looked forward to ever doing to her. And they weren't just friends.

 

He was capable of inflicting pain and torturing her and taking his pleasure as he did, and Frisk knew it.

 

She wasn't supposed to **ever know** , yet she knew it. She wasn't smiling anymore. And _fuck—_

 

She'd always remember all that he did. Fourteen years old. _Fuck_. He was _killing_ her. There wasn't anything undamaged _about_ her at this point because of him, and—

 

Sans forced himself to drink as Frisk set down her own cup by the water cooler. Anything for an excuse to not have to look at her. He felt disgusted at himself— bound to some kid— The weight of the enormity of what he'd done abruptly crashing down—

 

~~Stuck with a~~ ~~_sadist_ ~~ ~~like him and~~

 

He'd gone from feeling _lonely_ to desperate and now the Anomaly couldn't even bring herself to reach out to him of her own will without collapsing.

 

If there was a time for magic, this wasn't it. Yet Sans still vanished his cup instead of tossing it. He didn't care. He was beyond caring.

 

(Kid _still_ didn't know how _damn impressive_ manipulating multiple dimensions with magic was, anyway.)

 

Frisk didn't even notice. Sans didn't know how to feel. He kind of wanted her to hurt— Wanted the _world_ to _hurt_. Wanted the timeline to be _done—_ Needed a do-over. He didn't _have_ any,  not _anymore_ , not with _Frisk_.

Not with the only thing that really _mattered_ anymore and

 

He felt like nothing he did could make things right.

 

Frisk took his hand. Probably forced herself to take it. _Definitely_ did. And he wanted to say— His voice came out hoarse, but “you don't really have to—”

 

“We're friends,” the kid murmured, shaking her head. “I love you. It's just... That had nothing to do with you,” she assured him, maybe tried to assure herself. He was painfully aware of how hard the kid was working to build the illusion back up. “I'm not mad at you, or anything—”

 

“i wasn't exactly reading mad,” Sans muttered.

 

Frisk shook her head, determination practically coming off in waves. “What you—What we were doing, last night... Before Undyne. You _stopped_.” She sounded sure and certain. Like the entire issue was _done_. Buried.

 

Like it hadn't even taken a _fifth_ of her MERCY and it left him  feeling

.                                                                                                                         so small.

He hadn't—He hadn't even wanted to stop. He almost _told_ her. But instead, he started feeling himself shrink. He collapsed into a pile of his own judgment. And if Frisk simply couldn't, was _incapable_ of hating him—

 

He could do that for the both of them. “that doesn't really matter.”

 

“ _Yes_ it does,” she argued. “It matters a _lot_. You didn't have to stop, I couldn't've— I couldn't have stopped you. But you did. That's enough.”

 

It was too little, too late and they both knew it.

 

Why _else_ would she have stopped herself from reaching out to him?

 

He took a careful look at her and she looked _so pretty_ He'd kissed her lips more times than he could count by now. Stroked her cheek, pulled her hair—

 

~~Madeher **hurt**.~~

 

Saved that thought. Moved along. And really, he was trying to figure out what she was thinking. Feeling. She told him so little, and he was only able to infer so much.

 

But she looked _exhausted_ right now. Dark circles under the eyes he liked so much. Shoulder's slumped. Her brightness gone.

 

He saw his hand reaching out to smooth down her hair before he even made the conscious decision.

 

“when was the last time you slept?” he murmured, examining her face and letting himself run his fingers through her messy hair. Frisk's mouth curved downward. He grabbed her chin.

 

It was a _bad_... It was a _very bad idea_. It suddenly became obvious to Sans just how close he was to Frisk. And pulling her face to him—

 

He could _very easily_ kiss her.

 

He could— He could _very easily_ do _more._ She wouldn't fight. She had no fight left in her. And the more repugnant, destructive part of him wondered—

 

_Just how deep could Frisk's MERCY go?_

 

A chill went down his spine, sins quivering inside their tunnels excitedly and he could _feel_ himself _just_...

 

If he snapped, he'd really hurt her.

 

He **focused** , once again, on the exhaustion on the kid's face. A distraction from the pretty way she was looking away from him. His suspicions began to take form and expand the more he thought of them and, really... He tried again. “you didn't sleep at all after i passed out, did you?”

 

Frisk tried to look down, but couldn't. And instead she just—shrugged.

 

Sans couldn't just let her go. He... He _very selfishly_ kissed her forehead before releasing her. And he wasn't done. He _knew_ that he wasn't. But it could wait, it _had_ to wait. “i need you to trust me for about three seconds,” he told her, making up his mind. “you look like you're about to collapse. you need sleep, frisk.”

 

Frisk frowned at him and took a step back. He made himself bluff— held out his hand for Frisk. Shoulders relaxed. Forced a nonthreatening smile. “not gonna put you on a timeout,” he said. “but give me _three_ seconds. i'll shortcut us to the river shore. it's not exactly what you want... but you do look real tired, kiddo... and shortcutting's much better than walking for the next fifteen minutes.”

 

For a moment, Sans honestly thought the kid would snap at him and refuse. But when she spoke, her voice was gentle, if a little suspicious. “You keep insisting on that. I'd swear this is really about you not wanting to walk.”

 

_Hah._ He chuckled. “snowdin hikes say i can and i _have_ walked for you for hours on end,” he winked. “but, _tibia_ -nest, yeah. it's a little bit about that, too.”

 

There was an uncomfortable pause, made more painful to him at the sight of Frisk hesitating. She had never mistrusted him this much. He was about to give up and back off—

 

“Okay,” she told him.

 

She took his hand. Something fluttered in his chest. Sparks of magic. And it was impressive how easily Frisk could make him _so happy_ in exchange of just

 

Three seconds. That's all it took.

 

They made it to the river by two.

 

 

 

 

Walked out a reasonable distance away from the shore and it occurred to Sans, perhaps a little too late, that he had severely neglected to inform Frisk of what the River Person was like.

 

That might have been a mistake. Frisk was staring at the silent monster in the boat several meters ahead of them. And the River Person— Well, they weren't ever going to stare back. That monster was too detached from reality to really do anything.

 

They were staring straight ahead. Occasionally bopping their head and spinning.

 

“uh... yeah, they're always like that,” Sans said apologetically when he noticed the kid staring. Grabbing onto Frisk's hand to gently encourage her forward. “c'mere. monsters don't bite.”

 

~~_Well— **he** did._ ~~

 

It surprised Sans that Frisk's initial reaction was to stand her ground and try to pull away from him. It lasted only an instant, but it was more than enough to throw him off. _she was scared?_

 

She wasn't even scared of _him_ , most days.

 

“Um, I don't really think they want company,” Frisk whispered rather hurriedly. _Was it the robe that was bothering her? The River Person did kind of look like a grim reaper..._

 

_No. No, Sans was a literal skeleton. Death imagery wasn't it._

 

“they always like company,” Sans assured her, slowly guiding Frisk toward the boat. “trust me, kiddo. passengers make their day. what's throwing you off? you're usually friendly to everyone.”

 

“I _really_ don't like bothering people,” the kid said anxiously. Sans actually raised his brow bones.

 

_Wow._ It had been a while.

 

“been a long time since you've been this shy,” he told her. It really had been. Frisk had had no problem interacting with people around Snowdin since she'd been about twelve.

 

Since she'd been about _twelve_. _Twelve_ , **_two_** _years ago_.

 

~~Sharp gravel and lead dumped down his throat.~~

 

~~ He'd done more than just have a mild crush on her, by then. ~~

 

He tried to force the dense, uncomfortable feeling out, but failed. “what's up?” Distraction. He needed a distraction, and maybe he was moving his hand away. Maybe he was stuffing his sinful hands into his pockets. He actually looked back.

 

The road behind was still empty, yet judging him.

 

“Monsters usually approach me first,” Frisk told him. She actually sought out his hand and Sans felt like a jerk for ignoring her. Kept his hands deep inside his coat pockets, away from a literal kid. “I really, _really_ don't want to bother anyone, Sans. Maybe we should just take a shortcut—”

 

Sans had to admit that was pretty tempting. “river person's as friendly as everyone else when you're in their face,” he told Frisk. He didn't know why he was insisting this much, other than the nagging suspicion that the kid really needed a break. “they're just, uh... they're not really all _there_ , so a lot of monsters avoid them. works in our favor, though. i remember taking their boat to go to gaster's lab back when i was working there. probably did that a lot.” He shrugged. “don't really remember, but it sure beats walking, and i didn't always know how to shortcut.”

 

“You're _sure_ they won't mind?”

 

Sans chuckled. “i'd forgotten how shy you were. here,” he said, conjuring up a small rip in the timespace. He casually grabbed Frisk by the hem of her shirt and pulled her forward, and through it, and

 

Just a blink.

 

River Person was suddenly _right there_ , softly humming to themselves, and Frisk gave a little shriek.

 

“hey, p,” Sans greeted, looking too smug as he forced back a chuckle knowing Frisk was probably _dying_ to tell him off, but was too shy to do it. Another flutter of affection went through his bones as he felt the kid cling to the side of her coat. She hadn't done that in a while...

 

He had to fight back a smug laugh when the kid decided to try to pinch one of his bones in retaliation.

 

The River Person continued to spin, making Sans try again. It happened, sometimes— “looking for passengers?”

 

The monster in the boat abruptly turned to face them. Probably. It was hard to tell without actually getting to see their face. Their thick, hooded robe always made it seem like the head space was empty.

 

“Tra la la,” the monster continued, singing just a little higher and off-key enough to make the experience a little unnerving. “Care for a ride?”

 

Sans paused. A script.

 

That all-too familiar, stuck inside a machine feeling.

 

Maybe Sans really _should_ reconsider that shortcut.

 

Beside him, Frisk politely nodded, blushing furiously in a way that looked completely adorable. “Yes, please,” she said politely. It would have melted Sans' heart. It felt—

 

He remembered their first long meetings in the library. Sans suggesting books to Frisk, lazily answering questions about the Underground. Giving her short, often useless, corny answers. Testing the Anomaly's response. Warming up even more to Frisk when he gave out his jokiest replies and she listened to him anyway.

 

He'd really liked her, even then. She'd been even more of a kid and his attachment had been purely platonic, but still—

 

She'd always been... Frisk had always been _something_.

 

The River Person looked away from Frisk, spinning slightly where they stood. He saw Frisk's shoulders deflating, poor kid probably thinking she was about to be rejected. The River Person just hummed some more before replying, “Where will we go today?”

 

Frisk gave Sans a look as if asking for help.

 

“waterfall,” Sans answered for her out of habit, though it had been—it'd been a _really_ long time since he'd seen her be this _shy_.

 

He'd honestly thought she'd outgrown it by now.

 

“Then we're off...” P started moving their boat. Frisk actually scrambled to get in, as quietly as she could.

 

Sans was lazy. It would've been two very quick steps as the boat left without him.

 

He took a shortcut to the boat. He didn't care much.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't know if people remember where this had left off but here it is, two centuries later. Feel free to come yell at me: https://kenyaketchup.tumblr.com

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Like a Feather](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6069211) by [KenyaKetchup (temptedmelibea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/temptedmelibea/pseuds/KenyaKetchup)
  * [Depravity](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6102154) by [orphan_account](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account)
  * [Concede](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6140402) by [Creepygirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creepygirl/pseuds/Creepygirl)
  * [ハンサムな探偵対倒錯スケルトン Battle of Pervert Sans!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6564730) by [Deempe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deempe/pseuds/Deempe)
  * [ハンサムな探偵対倒錯スケルトン Battle of Pervert Sans!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6564730) by [Deempe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deempe/pseuds/Deempe)
  * [Hollow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6899518) by [DiabolicalPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiabolicalPanda/pseuds/DiabolicalPanda)




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